Choice
by misssixty1
Summary: They were both young. She was powerful. He was nothing. She taught him the most important thing, from the beginning of his new life: Choice. Godric's story. Rated M for V, S, and L in later chapters. *Chapters 1-11 rewritten as of 12/5/13*
1. Genesis: In the Beginning

**A/N: I DO NOT own **_**True Blood**_**. I'm currently getting ready to get back into this story, but I figured I might as well go back and reread it first. I was absolutely shocked to discover the huge difference in my writing ability now and then, so, I'm going to rewrite up to the new update for the sake of consistency, and to make this a bit better. Enjoy! I'll have a seperate account on Tumblr in case this story gets purged by FanFiction. It's on /blog/choicestory**

**Genesis**

_**In the Beginning…**_

_**October, 98 B.C.**_

Beneath the cold fall air, a boy shrank back in fear on the ground as blood sprayed his face.

The red sticky liquid spattered across his skin, causing him to shut his eyes tightly as he felt it trickle down between his lips, seeping into his mouth slowly.

"Look at the boy here! He is all but weeping!" the harsh voice of a Spartan soldier cackled wildly, and Titus forced himself to look up at the man, buried beneath a dark beard and hair braided back into one long plait.

His pink lips were spread in a ferocious grin, that reminded Titus of a wolf. Beside the blazing fire they had lit, his dark iris' danced with bloodlust sadistic glee as he stood above the bodies of the dead, and one remaining living.

Eyes meeting Titus', his smile disappeared, transforming into a horrific snarl of disgust.

"You think you can look at me Macedonian?" he hissed, and Titus quickly looked away, heart beating rapidly in his chest as he glanced down at his lap.

His hands were bound tightly with coarse rope, splinters digging into the skin of his wrists.

A boy of seventeen years, this was the first time he could ever say he ad truly felt fear. He was born onto the world by a mother and father who had taught him that fear was a weakness that would not be tolerated, and from is first steps, he had learned to embrace danger, rather than shy away from it.

"_A heart full of fear leads to weakness. Fear has enslaved the hearts of millions, and casts darkness over those it captures. Never give in son, and know, that death, is a new beginning. Death brings about the new life, it is nothing to fear. Pear is for the weak, and the strong, fear nothing."_

The words of his father echoed through his head as Titus felt the unfamiliar coldness creep through his body.

He had been tracking a party of Spartan soldiers across the countryside, hoping he might pick up any scraps of food they had left behind, only to find himself captive of the brute soldiers with no way of escape.

In this one moment, Titus would have given anything to escape the violence he had come to love. Since his upbringing as a child, he was taught to embrace and love brutality. His father was a warrior, who died an honorable death fighting for his country. Looking down upon the battlefields and watching the blood spray and spatter, watching body parts dismembered, hearing the strangled gurgle that would erupt from a man's throat as he choked on his own blood and vomit, Titus longed to become one with it. He wanted to wield an axe on the battlefields and watch as the life left the eyes of his opponents.

The war and greed consumed the entire country, as Sparta went to war with everyone, including themselves. He had grown up accustomed to the bloodshed and calls for soldiers that reached far and wide, and Titus longed to be a part of it.

And now, kneeling on the ground surrounded by dead bodies and facing the end of a knife, Titus was, although not exactly on the terms he had always hoped.

Suddenly, the tip of a sword tapped the bottom of his chin, sliding beneath his chin and lifting his face up.

"Who sent you?" another soldier asked, gazing down into his wide and watery eyes.

Daring himself to meet the man's eyes, Titus swallowed visibly, trying to still his shaking hands and keep his voice from croaking.

"I am no spy. I am just a citizen, I have not wronged you, I promise."

The man who stood above him simply stared quizzically, as though studying him while a few of his counterparts chuckled wildly, including the bearded man who had earlier reprimanded him for looking into his eyes.

"Sparta has numerous enemies boy, we cannot trust every quivering child who falls onto our grounds and pleads innocence." He said quietly, face completely unreadable.

While there was no kindness or warmth in his tone, he did not speak quite so cruelly as his counterparts, and Titus silently prayed he could lead the man into seeing the truth, and perhaps sparing his life.

A small wheeze tore his attention as he glanced next to him, where a Greek man lay dying.

Eyes staring directly at Titus, he gurgled and panted loudly, blood spurting from the incision in his neck. With each exhale of breath, a small amount of it sprayed from the wound, causing Titus to look away as bile rose in his throat.

His stomach churned wildly and nausea rolled in waves through his body as he stared at the red droplets, wondering how it felt.

Moving his mouth incomprehensibly, he stared at Titus before giving a last exhale. Suddenly, it seemed as though the smallest flashes of brightness that Titus did not know existed left the man's eyes.

The man who seemed less cruel than his counterparts stared down at Titus for a moment before turning and walking away, hands on his hips. The bearded one looked down at him, upper lip curling in a mixture of disgust and unfounded hatred. Staring back down at the ground, Titus slowly began to go over all the things in his life he had missed.

There had been becoming an actual warrior for one. As the son of a highly respected and revered soldier, Titus had been expected to follow into his father's footsteps of greatness. After his father's death, Titus had pledged to join the Macedonian army, only to be turned down because of his age. At 17, he was on the verge of becoming a man, and years ago, would have completed at least two years on the battlefield, wielding an axe like one of the glorious Gods, however the weeping pleas and angry tears of mothers had led officials to raise the minimum age to 18, leaving Titus with nothing to do but wait for the years to pass.

He would now miss the opportunity to follow in his father's footsteps, and become another Macedonian great. He would also miss out on the chance of having a woman to call his own, who would bear his children.

From less than savory dealings, Titus was lucky to have felt the touch of a woman. On his sixteenth birthday before his father died, the man had taken him to bed one of the local whores, and in his father's eyes, Titus became a man right then and there. He had a beautiful woman for one night, however, he still wanted to chance to continue on his name. He was the last boy in his family, and dying here and now, would be the death of his family line.

Listening as footsteps crunched against the crisp grass beneath him, he looked up to see two of his captors approach him. One was the bearded man, the other the kinder one who Titus prayed would spare him.

Together, they went back and forth in hushed tones, and Titus remained slumped, thankful for them at least keeping him alive so far. He was the only one left, although the others had quickly admitted deceit. It was only by sheer coincidence that Titus was near the group at all, only running into them when they were capture together and dragged before the Spartan soldiers.

Suddenly, the far cry of a voice on the wind hushed all conversation as all of the soldier's and Titus looked up, towards the direction of the noise. Squinting his eyes, Titus could just make out the figure of a boy, running quickly about the land, clothes whipping in the cold wind as he made his way to the camp.

As he got closer, Titus observed his youth. Long dark hair flowed back and stopped just as a chiseled jawline, exaggerating wide brown eyes and a slightly crooked nose. The boy looked to be no older than Titus himself at the most, fatty cheeks giving him the appearance of a boy on the verge of becoming a man.

Approaching the soldiers, he finally stopped, sandals tracking marks in the ground as he panted heavily and made his way towards the bearded guard.

"What do you want?" the man barked harshly, and the boy glanced nervously at the slaughtered bodies around him, then quickly at Titus, who remained on his knees in the dirt.

"The party from Somalia has arrived. The King requests you return with utmost urgency to escort the princess."

At this, the man who had spoken to Titus with slight kindness raised his eyebrows, and unmistakable grin on his face before turning around, leaving his bearded companion looking angrier than before.

"Tell King Nabis we will be back shortly." He barked, and the boy nodded curtly before taking off up the hill once more. The bearded man quickly spun around, looking down at Titus through glowering eyes.

"Take the boy. If we are to accommodate the Somali princess and our new queen, it'd be best to start this night. After all, there is a welcoming feast in her honor."

The glee Titus felt at his impending release was quickly shattered as he heard several of the other guards snicker, telling him that perhaps going to this princess, may have been a bit more than he expected.

* * *

Aziza glanced back and forth through the heavy material of the dark woven veil that shrouded her face.

"Look upon these great temples my child, and see what will be yours come tomorrow morn. This is Sparta." He father said beside her, grasping her hand tightly as they made their way up the steps of one of Sparta's beautiful and lavish temples.

They had made their way from Somalia, six full moons across land and sea to come to this country, where the following night, Aziza would wed the youngest Spartan prince of the current king, Nabis.

Beneath the eyes and grace of the Gods, the two would join hands, and both countries, would also become joined as well, giving Somolia one of the most powerful allies in all the lands, and ensuring Sparta high quality goods and soldiers as they built up their armies against the Macedonians.

Behind Aziza and her father, were the 200 men and woman who had accompanied them on the journey over, and who would stay behind in Sparta with Aziza to become servants to the great King Nabis and royal Spartan citizens. They chattered and smiled freely, looking forward to "servitude" which would undoubtedly mean staying in the magnificent homes of their employers and wearing fine clothes, while Aziza herself became the truly enslaved one.

It had been eight months since her father offered her to Nabis' youngest son, an up and coming Spartan solider of eighteen birth years who had a reputation for sadism and cruelty, often employed to the women who came across him.

Rumor and legend had it that at the age of 15, under the gleeful eye of his father he had all but mutilated a young virgin who had been brought to him as a gift from his father, taking away her honor before savagely taking her beauty away as well. He was skilled with the knife, something Aziza's father knew, but still agreed to, stating that it was only because of her "condition" he would allow it, although Aziza knew otherwise.

As they continued up the steps of the temple, Aziza felt hot tears prick the back of her eyes as she thought about everything she was giving up against her will for the sake of her father, and her country. She was 16 in human years, three in her immortal life, and unwilling even at her age of 19 to become a bride, although others had long before her. Within a day, she was going to become the future Queen of Sparta, an honor she should have looked forward to, but silently dreaded with every fiber of her being.

King Nabis knew what she was, which mean that becoming united with the country of Sparta, meant she was bound for life. _Her _life more specifically, which was liable to be a very, very long time. It was part of the reason he had sought out the deal with her father, knowing perfectly well that Aziza would be forced to remain faithful to the Spartan Empire throughout all of her years, including long after he and all his kin were gone.

She was bound for life, words that instilled fear in the hearts of mortal men. Immortality was truly a curse.

Just as the though flew through her mind, her body twitched subtly, and Aziza looked up to the sky, as the night clouds cleared away in preparation for the sunrise.

For a moment, she thought what it would be like to gaze upon the sun one last time, and let the sweltering heat take over her body, melting her skin and reducing her bones to nothing.

"Welcome!" a voice rang out as they reached the top of the temple. Aziza looked up through her veil to find a man, perhaps of 50 years or so with short graying hair and red robes. His straight noise sat perfectly centered between high cheekbones and bronze skin. Beneath his robes, he wore the traditional Spartan clothing for men, a white tunic tied with a brown plait and gold sandals.

Beside him stood a woman, more beautiful and fair than anything Aziza had ever seen. Feeling her father pull beside her, she knelt down before him, bowing her head in respect to the Spartan king.

"Stand, future daughter of mine. I will not let you be soiled on the filthy ground, your beauty has certainly not been exaggerated."

Tilting her head upward, Aziza looked at him, thankful she wore the veil so that she could hide her disgust. His voice dripped with unhidden desire that told her so would consummate her marriage with more than just his son.

Beside him, his wife stood emotionless and unfaltering, and Aziza wondered why she allowed her husband to make such crude comments before her. Spartan women had always been viewed as the strongest and most fierce in all the lands. Was the how a woman of regality acted when her husband openly jeered at the woman who was to marry his son?

"I thank you my King for your kindness, however my beauty is nothing compared to that of your lovely wife's."

Glancing over at the Queen quickly, Aziza watched as her emotionless face twitched slightly. Nabis' smile itself dulled for a moment, and Aziza took pleasure in the unhappiness of her future father in law before rising as commanded, standing level with him.

"How kind of you to speak highly of my wife. Now I am aware in your current condition you must retire before the sun rises. Arrangements have been made for your safety and comfort. I am most sorry for your abbreviated greeting, however if you follow my guards, they will take you to your chambers for the night."

With that, Aziza watched as several hulking men made their way towards her, with an announced apprehension. Fear coloring their eyes, Aziza studied their tense shoulders and clenched jaws as they approached her cautiously, as though waiting for an attack.

"My King!" came a voice, and as she followed them silently, she turned her head slightly, stopping as another party came from the opposite direction, a young boy in tow.

He looked to be about sixteen or seventeen, with dark scraggly hair which fell in front of his face and a series of markings that ran around his chest. Stumbling over his feet with bound hands, he followed the party of guards, blood spattered across his legs.

Staring at him, she narrowed her eyes. She had seen him before, undeniably and unmistakably. She recognized the tribal markings immediately, although she remembered him with short hair.

As he stumbled past, he turned towards her, glancing for a second as she stared before turning away.

"Princess?" a voice asked timidly.

Snapping her attention back to her party, Aziza turned to one of the guards, a handsome young blonde man with wavy hair and light green eyes.

"I am sorry." She said quietly.

With that, the party began to move, delving further into the temple which continued to amaze and astound Aziza with each step. It was a truly beautiful building, with lavish stone walls and beautifully carved busts of the Spartan kings of old. Stepping past one, she stopped, turning her head to observe the chiseled writing beneath it.

"This is your great king Leonidas." She stated softly, studying the marble caricature silently.

"_One _of the great kings. We have many." Replied the blonde boy who had spoken to her earlier, and she glanced at him quickly, studying his features.

The thing about having animalistic qualities, was the fact that she could pick up on certain things. For example, the emotions of humans often radiated in waves. Just one look at a person could tell her all she needed to know, but even beyond that, the body reacted certain ways in certain situations. For instance, if someone was fearful, she could hear their heart race rapidly in their chest. They're breathing quickened, their sweat glands produced more, and she could almost hear the blood rush rapidly inside of them.

Fear was a feeling she had quickly gotten used to, especially around those that knew what she was. They saw her as a monster, and could she really blame them?

Giving the boy a small smile, she turned back to the head of the guard who watched the interaction with dark eyes.

"All well Cleomenus?"

The boy said nothing, and looking at the ground, Aziza suddenly realized that fear was not the only emotion here. There was also hatred, another emotion she was now getting used to. Hatred for who she was, what she had done, and everything she had become.

Without words, they began to descend further and further beneath the temple, the air becoming significantly cooler as they made their way deeper underground.

As the air became chillier, and the walls more moist, Aziza's nose began to pick up the stench of rotting flesh, unwashed bodies, and blood. The dirt-covered ground and bare rock walls gave hints to a place which usually housed Lepers and the diseased, not blood-sucking Somali princesses.

The overwhelming stench of disease and despair filled her nostrils, growing stronger with each step. For her over-heightened senses, it powered through her nasal cavity, floating down to her very stomach. Behind her, the blonde boy covered his nose with his arm, eyes watering against the stench.

Finally, after many minutes passed they arrived upon a series of shabby wooden doors, each bolted and closed in the wall. Moving down the corridor, the guard stopped in front of one, pulling a heavy iron key ring from his belt and sticking a dull metal key into the lock.

The door creaked open miserably, and Aziza stepped forward, looking through the darkness at her new home for the night.

"Hope it's enough for a princess." The man lead guard spat, and Aziza glanced at him quickly before taking a step in.

The moment she crossed the threshold, the door slammed behind her and she was left alone in the darkness.

It seemed some effort had been made to accommodate someone of royal birth, although not much. Brass statuettes stood around the musky dirt chamber with a low-lying bed in the center.

Walking over, Aziza sat down, ripping the veil off of her head and wondering if her father and people were up above, joining in lavish celebration that would extend well into the day, and maybe even into the night when Aziza and Nabis' son married.

Feeling her body twitch with the biological announcement of sunrise, she laid back in the bed, staring up at the dirt ceiling and silently thinking to herself.

In all reality, she could have escaped all of this. She was powerful, deadly, agile, and strong. By all means, she could probably kill the entire city and flee to freedom, living her life in the wild, feeding on the meager and unsuspecting, watching the days, years, and centuries fly by.

But she did not, for a reason she and she herself only understood.

A year after her transformation, Aziza came across a poor farmer, who she had originally intended to feed from. Grasping his white head tightly between her hands, she felt him shake, she listened to him wheeze, and worse of all, her impressive ears could pick of the words he managed to string together before his heart gave out from the sheer intensity of the situation.

He had shamed her, condemning her to a life of misery and despair, and it was in that moment, that Aziza realized that all along, she had the choice to decide whether or not she would become a brutal killer, with no regard whatsoever for the human life she had previously lived.

Life, was all about choice. The choice to become who she wanted, the choice of how she would live, and more or less, the choice she made not to kill another human being, ever again.

She had steadily learned to feed without killing, frequently feeding on those that had just died back home, or taking just enough that the person could recover. In two years, Aziza had vowed not to become a monster like some she knew, so that for the rest of her long life, she could live in good conscience.

For choice, was the most powerful decision a person could make.

* * *

"Get up!"

Titus was jolted awake as cold water pierced through his skin, extinguishing his dreams and shattering against his skin as he sat up wildly, spitting water and shaking it out of his eyes.

Feeling the coarse hay beneath him, he looked around wildly, torn from his dreams of carnage in his homeland as he remembered once more where he was.

The voice who had awoken him had now moved on, and Titus gazed around the prison, which was lit by candlelight as it had been when he first arrived.

The previous night he had been dragged before Nabis, and called a traitor to Sparta before being yanked off to the prison. His night had been spent cowering in the corner of his cell in fear, listening as one man rambled on in a language he did not understand, and as another sang terrifying of death in a raspy voice.

The man in the cell next to him was a servant, accused with assaulting one of the daughters of the king, and from what he explained to Titus, being killed would have been the easier way out.

Most of the men in the prison either died soon of starvation, or were taken and never heard from again. Rumor had it, that the Spartan soldiers would take them out into the wild, where creatures of ill will lurked. The soldiers would offer the men as an offering to Dis Pater, who used the souls as he pleased, spiriting them down to the Underworld.

As the guard who had awoken them walked past, several others entered the chamber in full uniform. The man who mumbled over and over again in another language suddenly got louder, screaming at the top of his lungs and causing overall dissent in the prison.

"What is happening?" Titus asked, leaning over to the cell next to him.

"I do not know. They never come down here in these numbers." The servant replied, and together they watched as a line of guards marched past, right-facing at the same time and staring past the cells.

"Spartans! Bow to the princess Aziza, your future queen of Sparta!" a voice commanded, and as one unit, each soldier dropped to one knee, head bowed to the floor.

"No. Do not let it be true." The servant in the cell next to Titus suddenly spoke.

Titus turned toward him, noting the change in his voice, which was filled with undeniable panic.

"What? What is it?" Titus asked, turning to him sharply.

"Her." The man simply replied, eyes turning toward the prison entrance.

Suddenly, the entire chamber fell eerily silent. Crawling to the door of his cell, Titus grabbed the bars pressing himself against the door as he watched a woman enter the prison.

Involuntarily, he inhaled sharply, immediately recognizing her as the woman he had seen the previous night in the temple courtyard.

He had been unable to see her then, her face masked under a heavy black veil, and his attention was merely drawn to her because for an odd reason, he felt as though her eyes were boring into his very soul.

Now, he gazed upon her face, unable to think of anything but her astounding beauty.

She had brown skin, that seemed to glow against the candlelight, giving her an ethereal appearance as her dark hair fell in waves around her face and down her back. A crown of ivy-welded gold sat around her oval head, drawing attention to green eyes that sparkled dazzlingly under the light.

A white dress clung tightly to her body, which curved delicately like a statue of a Roman goddess, and fell to the floor, seeming to accentuate her height. Her long neck was decorated with a gold necklace, and bangles dripped from her thin wrists.

Holding her head high, she stepped into the prison, looking at the cells before stopping in front of one of the guards and leaning forward, whispering something in his ear.

The man muttered a reply, pointing to the cell two down from Titus, where he knew a dying old man rested. The man had been left there to rot after stealing a morsel of bread to feed his sons. While the Senate agreed to allow him a respite from death, they tossed him into the prison to let nature take its course, rather than soiling their own hands with the order for his execution.

Titus watched as the woman began walking towards the cell, followed by a guard who pulled out a ring of keys before unlocking the door and sliding it over for her.

Standing up on shaky legs, Titus gripped the bars of his cell, peering over the heads of the two cells beside him and glancing at the elderly man who continued to lay dying, seemingly unaware of the entire situation.

The woman slowly walked into the hay-filled cell, kneeling down beside the man and grabbing his face in her hands. Bending down, she began to whisper something in the man's ear, and to the astonishment of every being in the cell, his mouth began to move back.

The woman nodded, her lips part and revealing two rows of straight white teeth. Slowly, the dying man began to lift his arm, hand fluttering against the woman's face before dropping to the ground.

Suddenly, a sound echoed through the prison, and Titus watched in horror as two white fangs gleamed against her lips. Without reservation, she leaned down and sank her teeth in the man's neck.

He began to thrash wildly, and Titus backed up against the opposite wall of his cell, sinking to the ground.

The man reached out a hand, grasping at the woman's with weak and knotted skin. She grasping it tightly, sucking and feeding from his neck without reserve.

The sound of someone retching filled the room, and Titus himself struggled to keep bile from rising in his stomach.

He had heard of her kind before. Never seen one, but heard of the blood-drinkers who were said to be descendants from the union between Persephone and Hades.

They had inherited the beauty of the Greek God's wife, with pale skin and eyes that could bring a man to his knees.

Then they feasted on blood, demons of the night sent from Hades himself to siphon souls from the planet.

In horror, Titus watched as the old man suddenly grew still. Sitting up, the woman wiped blood from her mouth before standing. Looking around the prison, her eyes fell on Titus', and the two stared at one another before a guard stepped forward and said something.

Her face slowly became pallid, lips turned down in an unmistakable frown.

She nodded, before stepping past him and making her way out of the prison. Titus watched her go, his brain churning with a mixture of emotions he could not even begin to sort out as she stormed out and left an aftermath of trauma and death behind her.

* * *

Aziza stood in the center of her underground chambers, fingering the material of her wedding dress.

Tonight would be the night she truly lost all freedom, giving herself over to the King of Sparta and his young son, who she had yet to even meet.

Silently contemplating her future, she thought about what the elderly man had whispered in her ear before she had taken his life away.

"_I give you my life. Take it. Live." _He had said to her, throat dry with days of muteness.

When he had said this to her, his voice spoke of more than feeding for sustenance. It spoke of hidden meaning.

When Aziza had leaned down, letting his lips brush against her ear and taking in the last of him, she knew exactly what he had meant. To live her life, not this one. Not the life she was enslaved to, but to become free.

Then there was the boy, the boy who haunted her since the moment she had first laid eyes on him. His unmistaken familiarity had nestled in her brain, eating away at her every time she had a moment to think, and it was that night when she had returned to the world of the living that she realized where he was from. She knew his face, for she had seen it in the visions that haunted her since she had started her new life.

Whether it be when she broke free of the ground or while she was doing something, vivid images would float through her head, causing her to momentarily separate from the present as she was enveloped in a hazy fog.

She had seen him, and she knew, whether those visions were an insight into her future, or a life in a world beyond her own, she was meant to come across him in some way or some form.

Aziza felt as though this was God's way of showing her to this boy. He had been imprisoned, full of fear and innocence. Had the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob brought her here just to rescue him? Had He pushed their lives together for a purpose?

Aziza chose to thought so, but most importantly, she knew that deep down, even without considering here religion as a factor, she just wanted someone to be with her. If she was to flee, she would be betraying her father and her country. She would be turning her back on the man who gave her life.

Aziza knew that no matter what her actions were, unless her father came up with a way to fix them, Nabis would be unrelenting. She had a sister, Naobi, younger and even more beautiful than she was that would be more than willing to marry Nabis' son, but did Aziza want to submit her sister to the wills of a sadistic prince? At least Aziza herself would be able to quickly heal. What of the 14-year-old who was new to the world in every way, including her womanhood? She had only bled for the first time several months ago, a startling discovery that had left her screaming in the middle of the night when she awoke to find blood in her sheets.

Was she really willing to sacrifice the well being of her family for her own selfishness? How hard was it to lay on her back and accept the young prince willingly? It was not as if she had to bear his children, she could not even if she had to. If she was lucky, perhaps the woman he used to have his children he would stay with, leaving her free to do as she pleased.

But doing as she pleased year after year? Was she truly willing to do that?

Sitting down on the bed, Aziza stared at the dirt floor of the room, before her head suddenly seemed to split open in pain.

_She gently traced the markings on his chest, fingers grazing the green ink lightly as her tips came in contact with his smooth skin. Smiling, she looked into his eyes before leaning in to press her lips against his beneath the Óc Eo moonlight, which shined beautifully through the window of their small hut. _

"_Do you miss it?" he suddenly asked, fingers moving down to trace line up her naked back. Raising her eyebrows, she lay on her stomach, head turned to face him. _

"_Miss what?" she replied, surprising her with his suddenly impressive skill in the native's language. He had been learning without her knowing. The thought made her smile as she remembered the frustrated boy who all those years ago, she had tried to break from Latin._

"_Your life. You never talk about it." He looked down at her. _

"_And which life are you referring to?"_

"_Back in your home. In Somalia."_

"GAH!" she screamed, lashing out as she threw a hand over her eyes which streamed bloody tears. The pain reverberated around her head as the images disappeared, and Aziza clutched her skull furiously, silently begging God for it to stop.

After several moments, the sharp stabbing finally receded and she stood, taking a breath out of habit and trudging across the room.

She heard the footsteps long before the guard reached the door but nevertheless threw it open anyway, paying no mind as he jumped back in surprise, heat pumping loudly.

"Princess! Forgive me you frightened me….the wedding will be starting soon, I have been ordered to bring you to the surface."

His words flew right through her ears as she thought only about the visions she had just seen. It was him, the boy from the prison.

She needed to see him, one last time. She needed to look into his eyes and know, that he was not meant to be in her life. Aziza needed to know that fleeing here tonight with him, would not be a mistake, and that staying and marrying the prince was what she was meant to do.

"I need to feed again. Today was the first time I have in days." She lied to the guard easily, watching his eyes dart about nervously.

"But Princess, we must-"

She cut him off with a sharp hiss, baring her fangs dangerously and watching as the man, who stood hulking over her with broad ripping muscles and bulging biceps shrank back in fear, pressing himself against the wall.

"I am going to be the Queen of Sparta, and I am hungry. Feeding from your neck will be no matter to the Nabis, he will do everything in his power to accommodate me, you know that." Aziza tongued sharply, making her tone as cold and harsh as she felt.

The man said nothing, only nodded quickly as he swallowed before taking off toward the prison.

She followed, relishing how it felt in that one moment she had power. The first time she had felt that since first becoming who she was, back when she wildly took lives with no regret.

As they entered the prison, he left her before running off like a frightened child, leaving Aziza to speak with the guard herself.

"Back for seconds are you?" he grinned, so sadistically it sent a surge of anger through Aziza's body. Without thought, she grabbed his head before sending him flying against the stone wall, knocking him out cold.

He slumped to the floor unconsciously, and Aziza gazed around the prison, the odor of fear wafting heavily from the hearts of men who wondered if this moment may be their last.

Making her way to the boy's cell, she stopped, letting her slender fingers wrap around the metal grates as she stared at him, silently taking in every detail of his face, every detail she had seen in her mind over and over again.

Sitting in the corner, knees to his chest, he stared at her, eyes hidden beneath unkempt hair matted with blood and sweat, filth and hopelessness.

Looking into his eyes almost brought about the familiar pain that came with the visions, and Aziza felt as though she knew every single thing about him. She felt as if they were somehow bonded, in a way even closer than mates. She felt as if a part of her flowed within him, and as though he resonated within her.

Trying to think, she went back through the flashes in her mind, trying to recall if she had ever called him by a name. In her visions, many called her by names she had not recognized, and many sounded completely foreign to her. Staring, one seemed to stick out as she felt it drop off her tongue.

"Godric." She whispered, staring at him.

He looked at her wildly, before gazing around wildly as though she had addressed someone else.

"Your name is Godric." She said again, this time louder. Again, the boy simply stared at her, no hint of recognition on his face but she knew him. He had to know her, she had seen him in her dreams.

"My name is Titus, after my father." He finally responded, voice soft and weary.

"_Titus._" She mouthed silently, before gripping the bars tightly. This was it. This was the moment.

"Can I look into your eyes Titus?" she asked, wondering what she would feel right now if she was still human. Even in her dead body, excitement flooded her mind and soul as she wondered if this boy was the really the one in her dreams? Did God send him to her for a purpose?

"I promise, I will not hurt you. I give you my word." She raised her head as she noted his apprehension.

"The promise of a demon means _nothing_!" a voice suddenly snapped, and Aziza's attention was drawn to the man in the cell next to Titus.

He wore the clothes of a Spartan citizen, albeit tattered and worn, with a long unkempt beard and dangerous dark eyes and remained narrowed at Aziza.

"My promise means everything." She shot back, returning to the boy who looked between the two of them.

"By Jupiter himself I would not give you my last word, you creature of evil. You kill and defile the human race, beast of the Underworld and plague upon the Earth."

Each word pierced to her very core, grabbing her tightly and wrapping around her like a venomous snake, which jabbed its quick tongue devilishly with quick precision.

"You and your false Gods, look upon me as a creature of evil while you battle wars against yourselves for nothing but greed and foolishness. Tell me, human, who is really the creature?" she spat dangerously.

"My "false Gods"? And what do you worship beast? What has given you your pretty face and unearthly ways?"

"I worship the true God, the God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob. The God who turned rivers to blood and parted the Red Sea. The God who have made me in his image."

"So your God is a beast as well you admit? I pray Jupiter strikes you both down, you disgusting bitch!"

In was in that moment that for the first time in two years, Aziza lost all control. Feeling rage course through her body, her fangs emerged and she screamed savagely, throwing herself through the weak metal gate and attacking the man without reserve.

His scream sent glee through her body as she grabbed his skull tightly between her hands and twisted with all her might, ripping his head right off his body with little effort and whipping it across the ground as fire coated her useless lungs.

Adrenaline weaved through her, filling her arms and legs with glorious power, to add on to that which she had.

"You…" came a soft voice, that suddenly pulled her from the nightmarish glee she savored and back to reality as she stared at the bloody carcass.

"Father God forgive me." She choked, backing out of the cell as she stared at the body, taking in what she had just done.

She had killed, taken a life, and not for sustenance, but because she had let her own rage take over.

She had to leave. She had to flee. To stay here would mean to become her greatest enemy. She knew Nabis had military plans for her, to use her as his killing machine and turn Sparta into an even formidable foe. She could not do this. She _would not_ do this.

Backing away, and feeling the sticky streams of blood leak from her eyes, she moved out of the cell, turning to the boy as he stared at her.

This time though, his eyes gleamed with a look that horrified her beyond all comparison. Admiration it seemed, for she could not sense fear on him, only excitement and intrigue as he stared at her.

Standing up, he walked across the cell, staring at her through dark eyes.

"Take me with you." He said, grasping the bars tightly.

His voice pummeled her as she could hear him whisper sweet nothings in her ear, feel his lips caress her body in ways no man had ever done.

"I will die here if you do not. You have already killed one man. By leaving me here, you kill another. Would your God really like that?" he tilted his head, speaking in such a manipulative tone that she wondered just how old he was.

"You speak foolishly. You do not know what I am, what I could do to you." She replied, studying his short and dirty fingernails, feeling them against her thighs.

"I do not?" he nodded to the dead body in the next cell.

Voices suddenly caught on her ear, and with a sharp turn of her head, Aziza waited as the soldiers made their way down to bring her up for the wedding.

As they stared at each other, Aziza silently wondered, if this was the choice she had been waiting for all her life.

**A/N: I changed quite a bit lol. This chapter clocks in at 7K words (I think a new personal record for me) and 17 pages! Jesus H. Christ lol. Going to work on Chapter 2 next! You'll see I did add in a couple things, I'm actually surprised at how much I changed!**


	2. Exodus: Now These Be the Names

**A/N: I DO NOT own **_**True Blood**_**. I'm tots ready to get all caught up on this chapter. Two years and a lot has happened with my writing skills as you can see. I honestly didn't catch the end of Season 4, so I had no idea Tara was even missing in the first place but whateves. Once Pam's face started rotting I kind of stopped watching lol. Anyway, let me get back to working on my old baby, doing a little bit of nip/tuck on the story until I put out Chapter 34. I did just see they kind of released a little bit of Godric's history. Don't worry, I'm going to throw something in here for the sake of continuity. I just got a little idea I'm throwing in here, just for laughs. You'll definitely notice the difference!**

**Exodus: Now These Are the Names of the Children of Israel…**

Titus followed Aziza through the darkness as they wove in and out of the shadows, making their way to a nearby stable where the finest horses in the Spartan army were fed, cared for, and kept.

Her hair had been plaited back into a single braid, wisps falling around her face beautifully with the night wind. Wrapping his arms around himself, Titus shielded his small body against the cold air, small bumps rising on his flesh.

Her dress whipped around her body, trailing behind her like the great goddess Venus.

When she had walked into the prison and approached him, Titus was unsure if it would be the moment of his death as she gazed upon him as though she was looking into his being. Her eyes studied him with the look of someone she had seen before. Not only someone she had seen before, but someone she had truly known. She looked upon him with a gaze filled with the passion you only say in lovers.

Of course had he not been certain he was facing his death, he would have jumped at the opportunity to be looked at like that by such a beautiful woman, but then he had to remember, she was not a woman, she was something else entirely.

And that may have been what intrigued him the most. Not her beauty, but her sheer power, her invincible strength, and her adamant refusal to step down as she was insulted even by a man who was nothing to her.

Titus had watched from his cell, as she tore a man's head off with her bare hands, fangs bared in arousing power. She was beautiful and deadly all at once. She was everything Titus wanted to be.

He longed to make men nervous with a glance, and pick them apart with nothing but his fingers.

Making his way into the stable, he caught her scent on the wind, the subtle fragrance or flowers and oils.

As soon as they disappeared inside, Aziza grabbed Titus' arm, pulling him aside into a dark corner.

"Are you certain you wish to do this?" she asked, her breath on his ear although he could not see her in the complete darkness.

"As certain as anything." He replied earnestly, intoxicated by her scent.

"If you come with me, they will be after you as well."

"Then you can teach me how to protect myself."

Beneath the air, he caught her whisper something in another language before reaching out and grasping his hand tightly, causing him to jump. Her skin was smooth beneath his palm, but even more so, the freezing temperature sent a jolt through his body as her ice-cold hand came in contact with his.

"Stay silent." She whispered, pulling him along silently. He followed blindly, relying only on the direction of her body as he stared into the pitch-black night. The animals around them were strangely silent, whether in slumber or behaving differently in the presence of death, Titus did not know.

Finally, Aziza stopped and Titus ran into her heels, colliding with her body softly and clumsily. Listening intently, he felt his heart beat in his chest wildly as his other senses improved to compensate for his blindness. He could just barely hear her soft footsteps, he could smell the heavy aroma of animal droppings, and almost taste the dank air.

The sound of creaking caught his attention and he turned sharply, trying to determine where it had come from. It seemed to be right where they were, and Titus listened raptly as Aziza shuffled into what he assumed was a horse stable softly, untying the animal from its bindings.

Her soft whisper seemed to carry through the night as she spoke in a tongue he did not understand, to someone he could not see.

"Who do you speak to?" he asked loudly and looked around wildly when he realized the volume of his voice, hoping no one had heard them.

"This beautiful beast. Truly Sparta's finest, I have never seen an animal so God-fearing and blessed in my life." She replied, leaving Titus in confusion as he pondered whether or not she had just said she had talked to the animal.

Without warning, her hand was on the scruff of his neck and she grasped tightly, pulling him up and onto the horse behind her like a little children's plaything. Emasculated and stunned, Titus swayed dangerously for a moment as he came to realize what had just happened, before leaning in close to her ice-cold body. He never had much experience with horses (and that was assuming that they were actually on a horse), although he was familiar enough with the temperament of the wild beasts that galloped through the lands of his country, challenging men proudly as if they themselves were human.

"We do not have much time, we must flee quickly, I will be searched for soon if not already and the alarm will be raised. Put your arms around my waist, for we must fly and I know this magnificent creature will not hold back."

Titus did as told, sliding his arms around her small waist and relishing the feel of her body against his, even in the moment of their escape. In the instant, he forgot that he was a prisoner of Sparta, escaping on horseback with a beautiful blood-draining betrothed princess, and only knew the soft flesh beneath her white dress. When she leaned forward slightly, her bust brushed against his arms and he found himself overwhelmed by her lovely smell.

Suddenly, Aziza said something, and the horse cried out in response before setting forward in a gallop, taking them through the stable doors and out into the cold night, through the city court full of citizens bustling with excitement at the marriage of Nabis' youngest son to the Somali princess.

Titus watched the faces go past in a blur as they rode past the men and women of Sparta, some crying out in shock and others exclaiming in surprise as they pointed out the unmistakable figure at the reigns.

To leave the city they had to pass the through the heavily guarded and barricaded gates, which were protected by the country's finest men. As they galloped through the city square, the horse's hooves echoing against the brick pavement, Titus wondered how they would make it past the gate and the soldiers. The blinking lights of torches came into view, and Titus leaned in, surrounded by Aziza's sickly sweet smell as he searched for her ear.

"The way out is guarded. How shall we escape?" he asked.

She responded by shaking her hair out of her face and crouching down further, bringing the reigns down against the horse and kicking her heels into his sides as she urged it go faster. Shouts on the wind caught Titus' attention and he turned around, just making out several figures on horseback. They were being pursued.

"When we near the gates I will give you the reigns. Just keep riding." Aziza turned around and spoke to Titus.

"But, I do not know how to-" he began, but was forced to swallow his objections when she suddenly leapt off the horse, forcing him to grip the reigns tightly as he neared the gate and pray the horse would not do anything stupid.

The moment Aziza dismounted she was gone, and Titus found himself galloping through the night blindly. A whistle on the air suddenly brought his hair on end and the horse shifted quickly, dodging a spear that pierced the ground where they had previously been.

The horse veered back on path intelligently, causing Titus to momentarily marvel at it before the sounds of screams grew louder, piercing the night. Looking up, he watched as a figure, moving so quick it could not be seen whirled past the gate, taking out man after man in such quick time that none had a moment to realize what was happening.

Even with the guards dispatched though, the gate was still closed. In 12 yards, his attempted escape from death would be futile when he found himself spattered across the closed doors.

With anticipated slowness, the doors suddenly began to open, gradually growing wider as Aziza cranked the wheel so quickly Titus was certain it would break, leaving them stranded.

Eight yards to go, the gap was barely big enough to squeeze through alone, let alone on a horse. The voices behind him were getting closer as the other party quickly gained on them.

With five yards the widened a bit more, and as the horse's hooves clacked loudly against the ground, Titus closed his eyes, bracing himself for impact.

Then…

Nothing but air around him. Opening his eyes, he found himself looking out at the darkened landscape of Sparta, and turned back to find he had passed through the gates unscathed and unharmed. Aziza fought off the party behind him, and pulling the reigns sharply, Titus screamed as the horse bucked before coming to a halt, shaking its mane wildly and flaring its nostrils.

Turning back, he watched against the night sky and the twinkling torch-light as men screamed, facing their last moments at the hand of a beautiful woman. Her dark form danced against the shadows, twisting and turning, hands and legs flailing gracefully as she decapitated and dismembered figures without effort.

Then, with blazing inhuman speed she was on the horse again, mounted before him, her dress stained and streaked with blood.

The plait in her hair had fallen loose, locks rippling down her blood-soaked back. Grasping her waist tightly, Titus closed his eyes, feeling the free air around his face for the first time since his capture, and silently thanks the Gods for Aziza's presence.

He wanted to learn how to fight like her, kill like her, and eventually, he would ask to become like her. The thought of immortality and infinite strength sounded more incredible than anything he could imagine. He could become a God, Titus, the ruthless warlord.

He would travel the world, become a mercenary, fighting for different countries and relishing the glory of carnage and war. He would take women in his arms, breathing blood into his lungs and embracing the title of God to the fullest.

He, Titus, the small Macedonian boy who had been accused of being a spy, would become a God, and this woman was his path.

**C**

Aziza felt Titus shift against her, leaning forward so that his lips brushed against her ear and his chest pressed against her back.

"How much longer?" he breathed against her skin, causing her to tense involuntarily as if she were human again.

They had been riding for three hours now, deep into the country, and without obvious pursuit. Much to Aziza's surprised, even when she listened closely to the wind, she could not hear or feel the tremble of hooves behind them.

"A few leagues." She answered, turning back to the horizon as she peered across the lands, finding the small shadow that would give them refuge.

With each bit of land covered, Aziza began to regret her decision more and more. Not only had she disobeyed her father, betrayed her country, and wiped out a contingent of 20 Spartan guards, she had also taken a fugitive. A fugitive who had a price on his head as well.

A part of her was excited about having someone to accompany her. The boy seemed eager to learn about other cultures, but most importantly, he did not look at her with the quivering gaze of fear she had seen so often, but as someone he strived to be better than. For the time being, he treated her like everyone else, and for the first time, Aziza found someone that perhaps, she could have a relationship with.

A relationship was something she had not had since the beginning of her new life. Her father kept her locked away in their home, far from prying eyes to save her innocence for the man she married, something that inspired her to rebel in the first place, which in turn lead to her being what she was today. After returning home for the first time, out of fear for his life her father was more lenient in allowing her to for the most part do as she pleased, but when she constantly struggled to come to grips with the fact that she had killed and murdered innocent human beings, that freedom was forsaken.

The all-too-familiar blinding pain suddenly reared behind Aziza's eyes, and she shut them tightly, grunting as needles jabbed at her brain over and over, images flowing on her shut lids.

"_No one can know that you are mine, do you understand? They'll kill you. You've been lucky to evade recognition so far. I will return once my name has been cleared, but until them, you must protect yourself." Aziza said, slinging a bag over her shoulder as Titus stood before her outside of the palace walls. Her hair was tied up atop her head, face devoid of all emotion as she silently struggled to contain herself. _

"_Where will you go?" he asked in earnest, crossing his arms. _

"_I do not know, but you know what will happen if you come with me. You must stay here. We need someone who can keep an eye on the council."_

_Titus nodded in response, watching Aziza carefully as she shifted back and forth, jaw clenched the way it always was when she was upset. _

"_You should go by a different name." she suddenly spoke up, voice slightly choked. _

"_Alright. What about…what was it you called me when we first met? Back in the prison?"_

"…_Godric."_

"_Godric. I will tell them I was a slave boy, made by a Roman."_

"_Already you have learned much." Aziza said with a faint smile. _

_Walking forward, he put his hands on her face, letting his forehead come to rest against her own as his voice dropped to a whisper. _

"_I wish we could have been together." He said._

"_Someday we will be."_

Aziza bit her lip, feeling blood rush to the broken skin as the pain began to fade, subsiding into a dull ache and floating away along with the images.

"Are you well?" Titus asked behind her, seeming to notice her change in body language.

She said nothing in return, suddenly feeling a chill go through her body as they rode on the night, a chill that could only mean one thing:

Her maker knew that she was close, and she was summoning her.

**C**

Aziza saw the woman, long before they arrived at their destination.

She stood, long hair blowing wildly against the night wind before her home, isolated in the hills of the country, unseen by human eyes. The land was rarely used, with the exception of soldiers marching to battle. Generally, any travelers used the roads, which lead from city to city easily, providing reasonable safety to citizens and peace of mind should they ever have to travel.

As Aziza approached her, her jaw clenched firmly, back teeth rubbing against each other vigorously as the woman who stood for everything she was against came into view.

It had been two years since they had last seen one another, since Aziza had left to return to her family as a matter of fact. She could remember that night in her head clearly, standing before Baharah indignantly with her head held eye after she came to the realization that she wanted more from life than killing humans. She wanted to return to some semblance for her human life, she wanted to reclaim her humanity.

The Persian woman had laughed in her face, cackling wildly and taunting her with the reality that Aziza knew she would face by returning home, but nevertheless, she knew what she wanted, and what was best for her. To say they had departed on bad terms, would have been an understatement. That night, Aziza left for home after being nearly staked, and had not returned since.

But now, she had nowhere else to turn to. The sun would be up shortly, and she needed someone to stay and sort herself out, especially trying to figure out what she would do with Titus. The boy also needed to eat and rest, and Aziza did not know when the next time they would come a across an opportunity like this would be.

At long last, the horse began to trod down a hill, and Aziza pulled on the reigns, allowing it to slow down as they neared their destination.

"What is this place?" Titus asked, anxiety pulsing through his small frame.

"The home of my maker." Aziza replied firmly, with a tone that suggested he ask no more questions on the matter. Receiving the message, Titus closed his mouth, and they rode the remaining few yards in silence.

"As they approached the small home, Aziza assorted her face into a mask, determined not to let the woman who had so much control over her see that inside, she was wreck. Nerves wracked Aziza's body as they approached the home that held so many memories for her. Instantly, the thoughts, smells, and sounds began to rush in as she remembered the fateful night which had brought her here.

"Aziza, my darling. How kind of you to pay me a visit. And you brought a meal!" the woman spoke as the horse stopped before her home. Aziza dismounted gracefully, thankful that she was speaking in Persian so that Titus did not understand her words. It was better to not know than to react.

"I do not return here out of pleasure but of force. I am being pursued and the sun shall rise soon. We need a place to stay." She replied calmly, staring Baharah right in her green eyes.

Even beneath the masked moon, the Persian woman was truly beautiful with pale skin that seemed to gleam under the very sky, wide green eyes that smoldered beneath the lashes, and luscious dark hair that tumbled down her shoulders and back in waves, often decorated with wild flowers. Looking around the human age of 23 or so, Baharah still maintained her youth, with cheeks that never quite sharpened but kept their soft roundness, giving her the impression of innocence that couldn't be further from the truth. With her sweet smile and light voice, Baharah looked like an innocent young woman, happy with a spring in her step, but in reality, she was a cold and menacing predator, who showed no mercy to her prey. She was everything Aziza had come to hate, especially in her hour of need where she had no choice but to come to the woman for help.

Baharah simply looked at her, a smirk crossing her face.

"You think you can simply come into my home, demanding shelter after you have wronged me?" she narrowed her eyes, causing Aziza to twitch as she tried to keep herself from wringing the woman's neck. For some reason, her former lover always brought out the worst in her.

"When I left, something stayed the steak you aimed for my heart, and you exactly what it is. I am yours, and you are mine. We are together, no matter how much we despise one another, and if I die, as my maker you will undoubtedly feel tremendous pain." Aziza returned, watching in smug satisfaction as the grin slid from Baharah's face.

"What makes you think you mean anything to me?" she hissed.

"When you begged me to stay, blood streaming down your face." Aziza jutted back, and this time, Baharah found herself unable to say anything in return as they faced off, forgetting the boy behind them.

"You may stay…but I want the boy in return."

"He is _mine_!" Aziza hissed this time, fangs emerging dangerously as she crouched down, prepared to protect Titus if necessary. He was all she had now, and she would not so easily give him to a woman who would tear him to pieces within seconds.

In a blur, Baharah rushed over to Aziza, gripping her neck with slender fingers and lowering her voice dangerously.

"Don't forget that I made you, and I can just as easily destroy you." She threatened, letting her fingers grasp at Aziza's jawline. With minimal effort she squeezed, and Aziza winced, feeling hairline fractures erupt throughout her jaw.

Removing her hand, Baharah looked over at the boy.

"And what is he to you? Your pet? Toy?"

"He is a friend."

At this, the Persian woman threw back her head, letting out a loud cackle that echoed through the night before looking back at Aziza.

"We do not have friends." She said, before looking over at Titus and switching to Latin. "Come. You will stay here tonight, and let us hope I can keep my teeth off you. After all, Aziza can only do so much to protect one as delicious as you."

**C**

Titus leaned over, feeling his stomach roar miserably as he thought about his last meal. In the prison, they had tried to serve moldy bread and cheese, food that was a staple for Titus, especially since the death of his father, but served by Romans, he willfully refused, letting the food go to the rats.

Now, he was beginning to regret his pride as he sat on the barren floor of the Persian woman's home, candles burning weakly as his stomach groaned and growled in anguish. He knew better than to ask her for food, already envisioning the sneer that would cross her face at the mention of sustenance.

"If I recall correctly, there are wild boar that often forage around in the woods behind this place. Perhaps you can catch one. I am sure I can fashion you something to hunt with."

Titus jumped, spinning around as Aziza emerged from the darkness, her bloodstained clothes replaced with a faded gown that Titus knew belonged to Baharah. It was too tight in the chest, and too long in the sleeves, although even in shabby clothes that belonged to a woman who was nothing more than an animal, Titus had to admit she was still beautiful. Her hair was knotted back behind her head, resting at the nape of her neck delicately in a way that made Titus want to reach out and run his fingertips against the soft skin.

"You move quietly. Like a predator." He mused, looking down at her bare feet which stuck out beneath the gown. At this, he watched as she frowned slightly, eyes dimming the slightest bit as her brows contracted into a furrow.

"Yes…that is what I am."

It truly astounded Titus that a woman with as much power as she, seemed so unwilling to embrace the abilities she held and live life truly as it was meant to be. She had the ability to do anything she wanted, yet foolishly lived as though she was a mortal, something that both confused and frustrated Titus.

"You say that as if it is wrong."

At this, she looked up, eyes meeting his and causing his heart to skip a beat.

"It is. It is not a joy to be forced to kill."

"I beg to differ. Living life as a mortal, watching lives ended. It makes me feel weak. Immortality would be a true blessing from the Gods, a blessing fit for a king. You have power in your hands, how can that not be a joy?"

"Because the power should not be mine, nor anyone else's. No man should have the power to give or take life."

At this, Titus began to object but closed his mouth silently, preferring not to lead her into argument at the moment. Instead, he leaned his head back against one of the wooden walls, curious about her. She carried herself with such an air of regality, and knowing that she was a princess piqued his curiosity even more. How had such a thing come to her? What was her life like in her homeland? What was _she _like? He knew barely anything about her, and here he was with his life in her hands. He had willingly run away with her, without knowing anything but her name.

"I know nothing of you." He spoke aloud, watching her carefully. At this, she glanced at him, causing his heart to skip again before sitting down beside him.

"There is not much to tell. You know who I am, who my father is. I've lived an unpassionate life without much purpose up until now. I would say that my life has not even truly began."

Her cryptic reply stumped Titus for a moment, before he furrowed his brows in contemplation.

"Yes but you are a princess. Surely you lived a life of gleaming gold and silver, having everything given to you."

"Yes, I have, however I certainly would not call that living life. In fact, I felt more like a slave than my servants."

"How?"

"Those are not the things I have wanted. I have wanted to see the world, breathe the air on mountaintops, gaze upon magnificent sights and fulfill my sense of adventure. How can that be done sitting in a palace, unable to even think for yourself?"

"It is better than surviving off the scraps of men before you, scavenging for food like a wild animal."

"I find that hard to believe Titus. You carry yourself in a way that does not speak of a slave. Your back is not bent, your hands not knotted like those who face the harsh grasp of poverty."

"I was not always. My father was a soldier, a very famous one. We lived with my mother in Macedonia. Not a palace or anything, but a small place, respectable for a man who fought for his country. After he died, my mother could not work. We did not have the money to get the things we needed. My mother left soon after my father died and I was on my own. I had to live any way I could."

For a moment, they were silent before Aziza spoke again.

"The sun is almost up, I must retire for the evening. Perhaps tomorrow I can tell you more about myself, if you would like to hear."

At this, Titus smiled, feeling a small amount of glee surge through him when she returned it.

"I would."

With that, Aziza stood, giving him a last, lingering, ghost of a smile before leaving the room, and leaving Titus to mull over everything that had transpired in that day.


	3. Leviticus: The Lord Called Unto Moses

**A/N: I DO NOT own **_**True Blood**_**. Writing this on my brand new computer, and absolutely loving it! It's amazing what new technology can do to inspire you! **

**Leviticus**

_**The Lord Called Unto Moses…**_

"_Have you ever laid with a woman?"_

_Aziza stood before Baharah, watching as the Persian woman's eyes ran over her body unabashedly, drinking her in as she lay on her bed, hair tossed about wildly and chest heaving with passion. Her cheeks flushed with too much wine, Aziza laid back, resting her head on the pillow as everything around her swam. _

"_No. The Bible says that it is a sin." She whispered as Baharah climbed into the bed, laying down beside her._

_The Persian woman chuckled, letting her fingers dance in Aziza's hair, and Aziza took the moment to inhale sharply, taking in the scent of lilac and something else she could not quite place._

"_Yes I have heard of the ways of your religion. It strikes me as odd though, how a God who claims to have created man and control everything there is, would find fault in the simple impulses of man. After all, was it not he who created them?"_

_Aziza paused for a moment, trying to mull over Baharah's words through the haze of wine which had made her a slave that night. In truth, the thought of having a woman touch her and please her sent her body alive, warmth seeping down to her nether regions and raising the small pebbles of tissue on her breasts. She could not help the way she felt, blood searing through her cheeks and chest wildly, in a way even more intense than the feeling she had felt when attracted to men. She wanted Baharah's tongue to run over her skin, she wanted to feel her teeth scrape against the flesh of her neck. She wanted the woman, plain and simple, in a way that she could not deny. _

_Even through her drunken stupor, Baharah's words managed to clear the clouds. If God saw what she was as a sin, would she really make her that way?_

"_Mmm." She murmured, turning her head closing her eyes for a moment, trying to still the room from spinning._

_Even through it all, for the first time, she felt truly alive. She had felt that familiar buzz of excitement when in the arms of her father's men, letting their lips graze her sensitive skin tenderly. She felt alive, embracing the sin, and holding close the fact that she was doing something wrong. She was letting herself become a slave to her passion, but even in that, she knew she was supposed to save herself for her future husband._

_And it was that, that struck a chord with Aziza, leading her into silent rebellion as she took control of her sexual desire and impulses in a way no one else could. Why should anyone else tell her what to do with her body besides herself? _

_Each time she lay down with a man, she felt undeniably thrill in the wrongness of it all, but this, this was something else entirely. Through the alcohol rushing through her blood and fogging up her mind, she was aflame with life, more alive than she had ever felt before._

_It may have been being in the presence of someone so beautiful as Baharah, with her long wavy locks and striking green eyes. It may have been her voice, high and innocent like a girl, but sultry like a woman of the night. But overall, Aziza was certain it was something she could not name that drew her to Baharah._

_Suddenly, she felt soft fingertips gliding across her neck, and opened her eyes slowly, watching as Baharah leaned over her, hair falling in a curtain._

"_You have such soft skin." She whispered, before leaning down and pressing her lips to Aziza's softly. _

_Aziza gasped in return, kissing the woman back without reserve as she tasted her sweet and soft lips. _

_Suddenly, Baharah jumped back as a loud noise sounded through the room. Aziza sat up quickly, watching as the Persian woman looked away. _

"_What is it?" she asked softly._

_Slowly, Baharah removed her hand, revealing two large fangs that sent a jolt through Aziza's body. She had often been warned against being around their kind, but in the moment, all she felt was curiosity._

"_I do not frighten you?" Baharah asked after several moments of silence. _

_Aziza hesitated before responding, thinking over her answer carefully._

"_No." she finally lied. _

_At this, a smile crossed Baharah's face, and she suddenly appeared beside Aziza in a blur, teeth gleaming beneath the candlelight. _

"_You should be." She hissed, before lunging forward and sinking her teeth into Aziza's neck._

Aziza's eyes flew open just as the sun set, her body coming alive once more.

Sitting up, she glanced over at the dark figure on the opposite side of the cellar, taking in Baharah's form as she twitched, returning from the land of the dead as well.

The sound of heavy breathing suddenly caught her attention, and she looked across the room as wide eyes stared at her from the darkness, wide eyes belonging to a boy whose life had changed drastically over the course of three days.

Aziza's first thought when she looked upon him was surprise, for he had not fled during the morning. It would have made the most sense, as he would be able to gain an advantage of several hours while she had Baharah waited to return to the world of the living. Initially, the thought that he had chosen to stay excited her, before she realized that he may have had no choice. There was a chance that he stayed merely to evade the law.

Aziza was uncertain of why exactly she even cared. Without the boy, life would be so much easier. She would not have to worry about food, water, shelter against various elements, and most of all, she would not have to worry about herself. With the boy here, everything was slowed down and her each and every movement was made with extreme caution, ensuring the safety of the lad who meant nothing, and everything to her.

Standing up, Aziza walked over to the boy slowly, sitting down beside him and forcing herself to look into his (seemingly) innocent eyes.

"You are still here." She spoke, glancing down at the floor.

"Did you believe I would not be?" Titus asked in return, moving over a bit closer to her than she cared for.

"I must admit a part of me did."

"Even if I wanted to, I do not believe I could." Titus replied earnestly, and Aziza was certain that if she was still alive, her heart would have stopped.

"I do apologize for your misfortune. I will see to it soon that you are able to be somewhere else."

"You misunderstand me. I long to be nowhere but where I am now."

At this, Aziza turned, glancing at Titus sharply as she tried to decipher the meaning of his statement.

"I…do not understand…"

"And what are the lovers up to?"

They both looked up as Baharah walked over, licking her lips obviously as she glanced at Titus, a small grin crossing her face.

Aziza stood quickly, muscles tensing automatically as she stared at the woman who she depended on and loathed all at once.

"He is not my lover." She hissed defensively, although the moment Baharah presented her with the thought, she wondered what it would be like to have him as a lover.

She silently questioned if he had ever been with a woman. What would he be like, hands moving up and down her body slowly with uncertainty. Would he be nervous? Inexperienced? Or would his body move like a warrior, taking her violently in a way she longed to be taken.

"Good. Then we can eat him and I'll have you. I've been thinking about how good you taste, you know, you may have the tightest-"

"Baharah!" Aziza snapped in horror, feeling Titus' eyes burn holes in her back.

Baharah tilted back her head, letting out a trickle of laughter before glancing at Titus.

"Such a waste. You smell absolutely ravishing. Be careful, Aziza cannot protect you forever, and I am a very impatient woman."

"You are not a woman. You are barely more than a beast." Aziza snapped.

Baharah glanced at her carefully, giving her a warning look before disappearing from the room in a blur, and leaving Aziza alone with Titus.

"What did she mean?" he asked, standing up and stepping beside her.

"Have you supped?" Aziza turned away, ignoring his question as she made her way towards the steps which led to the ground floor of the home.

Titus hesitated for a moment, and Aziza knew he was contemplating probing her further before answering.

"No. I have not." He stated.

"The woods behind the home. I shall shape you a weapon."

* * *

Titus stood between two trees, crouched carefully as he held a wooden stake in his hand, sharpened to a menacing point.

The beautiful tool slid between his fingers smoothly, hand-crafted by an even more beautiful woman. As he stood between the trees, watching as a boar stood silently.

The meaty pig snorted loudly, smelling the scent of a human on the wind but unsure of where he was. Clutching the stake tightly, Titus narrowed his eyes, preparing to strike.

Suddenly, a rustle of leaves caught his attention, causing the boar to shriek out loudly before running away.

"Damn!" Titus swore, turning in the direction of the sound.

It was certainly not Aziza, whose footsteps were silent, or Baharah, who was even more stealthy than Aziza. The sound had come from one who was unfamiliar with the territory, clumsy in footsteps and careless in the noise they made.

"Show your face!" Titus screamed, feeling his heart race in his chest as his father's voice echoed in his ear, teaching him different styles of warding off an opponent with his bare hands.

Suddenly, he was thrown to the ground as a searing pain exploded in his back, sending him into a world of darkness.

* * *

Aziza heard Baharah's footsteps long before the woman reached her, but nevertheless, remained seated in the wooden chair facing the forest as she awaited Titus' return.

Soft fingertips grasped her shoulders, working their way down the swell of her breasts and Aziza found herself unable to tell Baharah to stop as she closed her eyes under the woman's touch, relishing the feel of her flesh against her own, and savoring the memories of the nights they had spent together.

"You give yourself away too easily." Baharah whispered, leaning down and letting her tongue flick out at the shell of Aziza's ear.

Standing up quickly, Aziza used what willpower she could muster to pull herself from Baharah's touch, feeling her ear tingle slightly where Baharah's tongue had met her flesh.

"Playing difficult are we? I can see by your look you have not been with anyone in some time. I can just…taste…your wetness from here. Do not deny what your body wants." Baharah licked her lips, staring at Aziza in a way that sent a thrill through her body.

"I will not become your slave once more Baharah." Aziza responded curtly, silently wishing she could throw herself at the woman's feet and feel her skin against her cheek.

"Yes, I did bind you did I not? And you loved it. Tilting your hips towards me so I could plunge my tongue into you deeper. You crave me Aziza, you cannot deny it."

Aziza swallowed, trying to think of a response that would do nothing but justify the fact that Baharah was right. No matter how much she loathed the woman's loss of humanity and animalistic qualities, she still desired the touch that she was once familiar with.

Before Aziza could defend herself, the sound of trampled footsteps hit her ears. Turning sharply, she stared at the treeline behind Baharah's home, sensing danger in the air.

"It is the boy." Baharah spoke, sniffing the air, and immediately worry flooded Aziza. Titus' footsteps were always dignified, proud and careless of the noise he made. This sound was weak, as if he was stumbling through the woods, clinging to life with shaky fingers.

"He is wounded." Aziza said before running into the woods, his scent growing in her nostrils along with the intoxicating and unmistakable scent of blood.

Her fangs emerged before she had a chance to control herself, baser instincts taking over as the smell wafted into her nostrils.

"Titus?" she cried out, voice wavering with unspoken emotion. What if he was hurt? Badly hurt?

A soft wheeze was his response, and stepping past a thicket, Aziza found him, just as he fell into her arms, slumping against her weight.

"What has happened to you?" she asked, feeling his faint pulse along with the rising panic in her throat. He could not die here, not when she had such a journey to go. She needed the boy, in a way she could not quite explain.

Feeling the warmth of his blood on her arm, Aziza adjusted him slightly against her, before her eyes widened as they laid sight upon a series of scratches on his back, lethal looking and bloody.

"What has done this to you?" she whispered, before Titus fell against her completely, losing consciousness.

Cradling him in her arms, Aziza rushed back to Baharah's home, clutching his body tightly as he came upon sight of the Persian woman.

"What is this?" Baharah asked with wide eyes, fangs emerging as her body tensed with the promise of a meal. Aziza stepped past her forcefully, trying to think of anything but the blood as her body willed her to lap it off Titus' skin.

"He has been hurt by something. Certainly no boar." Aziza replied before setting Titus down on the shabby floor, putting a hand on his pale cheek.

"Titus?" she breathed, leaning close to his handsome face.

"The life is leaving him. It is no use Aziza, let us ease his suffering now. His death will be no great loss, the blood flows strongly within him."

With this, Aziza clutched him tightly, spinning around to face Baharah through narrowed eyes.

"You will _not _touch him." She hissed.

Baharah lunged at her wildly, grabbing her body with inhuman speed and pinning her down on the floor, fangs bared and eyes full of fury.

"You dare threaten me Aziza? I am four centuries your senior, if I want to have this boy, I _will _have him."

"I may be younger than you but I promise I will not let him die at your hand without a fight. I will drive a wooden stake through your heart if I have to."

Baharah roared, lifting a hand and striking Aziza across the face so hard that her jawbone cracked beneath the blow.

"Foolish girl. For all your supposed wisdom you do not know when to hold your tongue."

A startled gasp suddenly drew their attention as Titus struggled for air, inhaling sharply. They both looked at the boy, Baharah still on top of Aziza.

Turning his head, his eyes fluttered weakly, and with all the strength she could muster, Aziza threw Baharah off of her, rushing to his side and grabbing his hand in hers, which was steadily losing warmth.

"Titus, I am here." She breathed, leaning close to him and running her thumb across his soft lips delicately. It was now that she realized even with his youthful appearance, he was very handsome.

Eyes opening slowly, he gazed up at Aziza weakly, before opening his mouth.

"Help me." Was all he said, before closing his eyes again and slumping over.

"Titus? Titus?" Aziza cried, shaking him forcefully. He made no response, and in desperation, she brought her head down to his chest, turning to hear his heartbeat which was weak.

"Oh God no, please do not leave me." Aziza whimpered, feeling desperation crawl into her. For a moment, she felt as though she truly loved this boy, and would do everything in her power not to lose him.

"He is dying you fool!" Baharah lashed out behind her, and Aziza ignored her, biting her arm and drawing blood before letting the wound hover over Titus' mouth, blood dripping down his throat.

He stirred after several moments, twitching slightly and Aziza brought her arm to his mouth, feeling him begin to struggle beneath her.

"Drink." She commanded, pinning him down and with weak arms, he grasped at her, sucking down her fluids gently as the life entered him once more.

As he came back to life, Aziza began to weaken, strength rushing from her with the blood. As her eyelids drooped dangerously and fatigue took over, Aziza forcefully tore her arm from his grip, standing up and staggering across the room weakly before collapsing in a chair.

"May Allah have mercy on your soul." Baharah mumbled, stepping past Aziza before leaving the house, slamming the door behind her.

Laying her head down on a table, Aziza closed her eyes, barely aware of Titus' footsteps as he made his way across the room.

"Are you well?" he asked, voice faint to her ears.

"I gave you too much of my blood." Aziza replied, closing her eyes.

At this, Titus rushed forward, pulling his shirt from his neck wildly and offering himself to her.

"You can have mine." He said, and Aziza bit back a chuckle at his foolishness, although for the moment, it was hard to turn him down. Even through her fatigue she could hear his heart pump beneath his chest, blood coursing through his veins.

"You speak kindly but foolishly. In my present state if I were to feed from you I would likely kill you." She said honestly, dizziness causing the world around her to spin.

"I have faith that you will not." Titus shook his head, putting a hand on her arm.

She shied away from him, looking up wildly to meet his eyes which were brimming with admiration, a side-affect from the blood.

"Titus please." She shook her head.

"And what if you do not feed? I do not believe you will hurt me Aziza."

Aziza said nothing, watching him carefully.

"How do you know?"

"I just know."


	4. Numbers: The Lord Spake

**A/N: I DO NOT own **_**True Blood.**_

**Numbers**

_**The Lord Spake…**_

_Titus watched her carefully, peering around the doorway as she stood naked, running a comb through exotic waves. The candlelight hit her brown skin at an angle, illuminating her curves and leaving a small portion of her body in shadow. Back turned, he continued to observe her, his loins burning with desire as he gazed at her nude body._

_He had been with women before, he had seen them in nothing but their skin, but none could compare to her ethereal beauty, her skin glowing and sending blood rushing to his groin. He wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch her, trailing his fingertips up the length of the silky skin of her back, a thought that caused him to shudder momentarily. _

_At the small sound she turned around, fiery eyes meeting his own and rooting him to the spot where he stood. It continued to amaze him, how in death she could still remain so beautiful, her large breasts begging to be touched. Drinking her in, Titus studied her body completely, memorizing each and every detail, down to the delicate V between her legs, smooth and hairless. Licking his lips, he wondered how it would feel to slip his finger between her folds, just what her moans would sound like. He yearned to watch her body move beneath him, writhing in pleasure that he longed to give her. _

"_Were you watching me?" she asked, tilting her head to the side. Titus watched as a slow grin climbed across her face. With newfound confidence, he made his way into the room, slowly walking towards her as his erection grew with the thought of entering her slick passage and thrusting inside of her fiercely. _

"_You do not seem to mind." He answered cockily, before stopping before her, eyes raking her luscious body._

_Instead of responding in her inhuman ways as he thought she would, Aziza stepped forward, putting her hands on Titus' shoulders, fingers traveling across his muscled skin. Looking down, Titus caught her wrist with his lips, kissing her softly and glancing up at her. _

"_I have fantasized about touching you." He whispered truthfully, stepping closer to her and letting his hands wind around her slim waist. Pressing his body against hers, he felt her large breasts against his chest and shuddered slightly, before tilting his head up and pressing his lips to hers. _

_She kissed him back, before tilting her head back so that she exposed her long neck to him. _

_Ever so softly, Titus ran his fingers across the smooth skin, before pressing his lips to the hollow at the base of her neck, inhaling her scent. Suddenly, a sound echoed throughout the room and Titus jumped, looking up to find her fangs extended, brushing her full lips. _

"_And I have fantasized about _this_." She hissed, before opening her mouth and grabbing him by his neck forcefully, sinking her teeth into his neck. _

Titus awoke with a start, looking around to find himself in a world of pitch black darkness that enveloped him, rendering him unable to make out anything.

Sitting up, his hand flew to his neck, grazing the skin and expecting to find puncture wounds, but instead he found nothing, nothing but the remembrance of a dream. A dream that had felt so real though, and Titus found himself closing his eyes, thinking about the feel of her skin beneath her fingers.

How smooth it had been, smoother than anything he could have even imagined, cold like ice and soft as silk. He longed to take her skin between his teeth and bring a hand to her bottom, squeezing her round backside and listening to her mew into his mouth.

The very thought sent a surge of warmth to Titus' loins, and I glanced down at his thin bottoms, watching himself grow hard at the thought of her.

Unable to get any thought of her out of his head, Titus let his hand slide into his pants, grabbing himself and tilting his head back. Closing his eyes, he imagined her lips on his neck, kissing slowly and making her way down to his bare chest. Letting his hand wander slowly, Titus touched himself silently, his mind running wild as he fantasized about everything he wanted to do to her.

He wanted to climb on top of her, taking her large breasts into his hands and pinching her nipples tightly between his thumb and forefinger. He longed to let his hand slide between her thighs and brush her entrance, teasing her and letting her beg for him.

More than anything Titus wanted to grab himself and slide into her, pounding her mercilessly and making her scream his name. She may have been a princess, powerful and deadly, but he wanted to make her his own, asserting dominance over her even in all her terrifying strength.

"Titus…?"

He jumped at the sound of her voice, whipping around to find her not in his fantasies, but standing before him looking down with eyes raised in surprise as her eyes flitted towards his hand which was still down his pants.

Sitting up quickly he retracted it, standing up and letting his hand fall over his erection.

"I am sorry." Aziza suddenly said, taking a step backward and Titus stood before her boldly, studying her face which suddenly remained impassive. In real life she was even more beautiful, her full lips begging to be kissed. She wore a robe of deep blue with a hood over her head, obscuring her features as much as they could be, and a rope belted around her waist, showing off her figure. Eyes raking in her body, Titus glanced up at her bust, unable to keep his mind from imagining taking one of her nipples into his mouth and sucking roughly. The thought caused his member to twitch, and he tried his hardest not to stroke himself.

"It is a side-effect of the blood. The drinker sees his host in a desirable light." She suddenly said, and Titus grabbed himself obviously.

"How do you know it was the blood? Your form is more arousing than anything I have seen." He spoke truthfully, sauntering towards her. Face still cold, her eyes watched him carefully as her approached, and grabbed her hand in his own, relishing its cold weight and silky-smooth texture. Taking her hand boldly, he placed it on the hard bulge in his bottoms, a moan escaping his lips with her touch.

She jerked her hand back, pulling away from him quickly and rushing to the door in a blur.

"Pack your things we must depart. Be ready to leave in the passage of 20 minutes." She said softly before disappearing and leaving Titus in the darkness.

* * *

Aziza let her fingers fly across the boy's temple, tracing his handsome face gently and let he fingertips grace his thick eyebrows. A grin crossing his face, his eyes met her own, and she leaned down, piercing his flesh with her fangs and sucking the warm blood from his body, drinking him eagerly.

"Save some for me." Drawled a voice, and Aziza looked up, licking the blood from her lips as her maker strolled into the room, looking down at the boy on the ground with hungry eyes. Kneeling beside Aziza, she put a hand on the Somali woman's mother, tracing her skin smoothly with gentle fingertips.

"Why not stay and keep me company? If you have feeding habits like this you will drain that boy before you make it anywhere."

"I told him we would leave in 20 minutes. Ten have now passed, I cannot. Besides, there is something I need to take care of in Cairo." Aziza said honestly, bending over and bringing her tongue to the boy's neck once more. He moaned underneath her, and Baharah grinned at him seductively, bringing a hand to his crotch and rubbing him gently. As he tense, more blood spurted from his neck and into Aziza's mouth.

As the sticky liquid filled her mouth, Aziza felt it wrap around her muscles, her body filling with the life of another, blossoming inside of her and bringing strength.

Lifting a hand weakly, the boy placed it on Aziza's thigh, and in her moment of pure animalistic behavior, she pushed herself into his touch, breaking away from the throbbing vein in his neck and gazing down into his youthful eyes, alive with excitement and desire even so close to death.

"He responds so well, I just may keep him for another turn." Baharah said beside her, and Aziza ignored her, bending down and pressing her bloody lips to his own.

Drained of blood through his weakness he kissed her back, lips quivering. In that moment, she felt the familiar freedom that came with a feed, having the warm blood of a human within her body, stirring her strength and bringing forth immense arousal. Straddling the boy she swung her leg over his body, bringing her lower body down against his engorged groin. Leaning down to rest on her elbows on the ground, she kissed him once more, her womanhood ablaze with desire. It had been long since she had last been touched, and the thought of taking the boy simply pulled her to pieces.

The sound of very human footsteps suddenly pulled her from her fervor, and Aziza jerked up, turning around as the overwhelming musky scent that was unique to the boy she had foolishly rescued from certain death.

Titus stood in the doorway, looking back and forth between the body on the ground, and Aziza, drenched in blood. As she watched him, she could smell, feel, and hear each change happening within his body as he nervously stood before her, heart beating faster, blood rushing through his veins. Perspiration wafted out of his glands, pricking Aziza's nose and she stood up quickly, wiping the blood from her lips.

His eyes bored into her like hot coals, piercing the very depths of her twisted soul as though he was seeing her in a different light. She could smell the fear on him, while not pronounced, it was enough to know that she frightened him.

Fangs retracting quickly, she looked down, blood dribbled down her gown then glanced back at Titus.

"He smells…delectable." Baharah murmured in Persian, and Aziza glanced at her, hissing in a way that made her elder laugh, tossing back her wild mane of hair. Biting her arm, she fed the boy on the ground and Aziza turned back to Titus.

"You are ready to depart?" she asked, and he nodded, swallowing harshly as his eyes continued to dart to the body on the floor once more.

"Where are you going?" Baharah cooed, knowing full well where they were headed and why.

"I told you." Aziza shot back, and Titus slowly began to walk towards her. As he did so, she was suddenly blinded by pain and bent over, her head threatening to split open as the images flew in.

_She watched as the first tower collapsed on her television screen, one of the great marvels of the modern world tumbling to the ground in a matter of seconds and leaving behind an explosion of dust and debris. The news images flickered across the screen, zeroing in on the events from that day, and forcing the queen of New York to watch each and every sight, a violent crime perpetrated by a vile being. _

"_This is worse than Oklahoma City." One of her officers by the name of Shane said, and she ignored him, the camera going live and panning to firefighters as they dug through the wreckage, searching for bodies amongst the destroyed foundations of what was once the World Trade Center. As she watched, she was unable to think about anything other than the human lives there, friends of her own who she knew would have been there today? Had they survived? Had they gotten out before the collapse?_

_In addition to them, there were vampires beneath the complex as well, underground government officials who resided deep beneath the streets of Manhattan at night. Had _they _survived? _

_Standing quickly, she flew to the door of her penthouse apartment, throwing it open. _

"_Where are you going?" Shane asked. _

"_We need to find out if those underground have survived. If not…then whoever did this will pay."_

"Aziza!" Titus exclaimed, hands on her upper arms.

Clearing through the fog, the vision began to become hazy before slowly disappearing, the searing pain in Aziza's head dissipating to a dull ache. Looking up slowly, she stared right into Titus' eyes, warm hands burning into her undead flesh.

As she stared into his eyes, she was suddenly overcome with the desire to kiss him, pressing his lips to hers gently and tasting his warm mouth. She wanted him to put his hands on her, and feel his warmth inside of her.

"Are you well?" he whispered, leaning in close and she pulled away from him sharply, his touch lingering on her arms and trailing sparks of excitement that brought her to her senses. Standing up quickly, Aziza smoothed her gown before turning to her maker.

"We must depart now. Dawn will approach with a few hours time and we have a long journey ahead of us. The road to Cairo will take many nights. The sooner we get there, the better." She said, walking across the room and grabbing a bag.

Without a word, Aziza made her way outside to the horse tethered to one of the wooden beams of the house. As she began to untie it, Baharah made her way out, shoulders slumped obviously as she glided down the steps and to Aziza, grasping one of her hands tightly.

"Why must you always leave me?" she muttered softly, her voice swimming with unspoken emotion. Aziza glanced at her for a moment and took in her maker's eyes, swimming with a sick desperation to keep Aziza as her concubine.

"You know that we cannot be together Baharah. Look at the state I departed in the last time. We are simply too different." Aziza shrugged truthfully.

Baharah was devoid of all human compassion, emotion, and any care for life at all outside of her own, something that Aziza could no longer deal with or be a part of. The woman used her abilities to kill, maim, and betray, while Aziza wanted only to use hers for goodness, hoping it would save her soul from eternal damnation. Besides it all, she had Titus to think of. The moment she agreed to stay, Baharah would tear the boy limb from limb, or worse-propose turning him. Out of everything, there was no way Aziza wanted to subject him to that fate. In Cairo he would have the opportunity to start a new life, and safety from the country of Sparta. There was nothing for him here but death, and both women knew that.

"I gave you so much, and you will not repay me?" Baharah pursed her lips and Aziza froze, anger climbing its way into her heart as the woman tried to guilt her into staying.

"You gave me so much? You cursed me, for eternity. Do not forget that. You have made me inhuman, incapable of ever bearing children or falling in love. Yes, you have given me much." She lashed out, and Baharah's eyes darkened.

"Ungrateful. I could kill you right now." She barked violently, grabbing Aziza's wrist tightly.

"And by destroying me, you create immense pain for yourself. We are bonded for life, no matter how much disgust I feel for you, and you know that."

"You think I cannot just make another? Perhaps that boy you seem so keen on protecting. You tug him around like a little pet while he squirms to be free of you."

"Leave him out of this!"

"What is that I detect…infatuation? Longing? You can yearn for him all you want, protect him from the world and show him far-off places, but he sees you as a monster. I can smell his fear, every time he is around you. You _frighten_ him. With all your valiant eagerness to protect him, he is your prisoner, not your companion. I see the way you look at him, eyes shining repulsively. Let me tell you something my child, no matter what you do, he is going to die. Whether it be from the slow dawn of time, or at the edge of an axe during battle. He will die, leaving you lonely and full of despair."

Aziza shook her head violently at the thought, staring Baharah right in the eyes.

"He will not." She whispered.

"Oh? So what, he shall live forever? Without you turning him?"

"I have seen him, Baharah. In my visions. Visions that can only be of a future long before us. You cannot understand the things I have seen, black screens that show you the world, tall structures made of glass. He is there, with me. I have seen him in them, with me. I do not love him, I do not care for him any more than a stranger, but I know that he will have some part to play in my life before my time is done."

"Your visions are nothing more than fantasies. You put all your actions and decisions into false glimpses into a so-called future? Perhaps you are more foolish than I thought."

Aziza looked up and stared at her for a long moment, unable to come up with a response to the woman who meant so much and so little to her. All in that moment she loved and loathed her, despised and pitied. As her eyes swam with blood though, Aziza knew that the harsh words spat from Baharah's mouth were from hurt, not true hatred like she felt for everyone else. Aziza had no idea why Baharah had felt anything for her, but the woman clung to her desperately, spitting with rage and pleading for her to stay each time she had to leave.

Freeing the horse from the post, Aziza grabbed the reigns, pulling it away slowly and looked up at Baharah.

"Goodbye." Was all she said, and the Persian woman twitched, blood spilling from her eyes.

"You are not welcome here ever again. Not this time. If you choose that boy over me, you are not welcome here."

Without turning around Aziza stopped, then turned her head slightly.

"Then good riddance."

* * *

Titus replayed the scene over and over again in his head as his hands slid around Aziza's waist.

When he walked into the room, he had found her atop a young man, body bent over in such a position that Titus found himself unable to look away as her clothing outlined a firm and round backside. When she had looked up at him, blood covering her face and fangs extended sharply, for the first time Titus saw her for what she really was. She had finally let go of control, he could see it in her beautiful eyes, and he wanted nothing more than to take her bloody mouth to his and have her then and there.

More than anything though, Titus had felt an inkling of fear stir in his heart, as the thought crossed his mind that she could rip him to shreds in seconds, but that was what made her all the more arousing to him. In her ferocious savage nature she looked ethereal, like a heavenly goddess staring down at him with eyes that spoke of silent sorrow and deeply-rooted passion. She was more than just a Somali princess, she was something else entirely, something Titus longed to strip away and study intently.

Her body was cold and strong against him, her muscles lean and toned even through her thick clothing. As he clung to her, the chilly night air around them coupled with her freezing skin caused a shiver to climb through his body, rattling his teeth and ringing his bones.

Pulling the reigns tightly Aziza brought the horse to a halt and hopped off gracefully, putting a hand on Titus' knee. The touch caused the limb to jerk in excitement as his heart skipped a beat, and she quickly pulled her hand away, clenching her jaw in a way that told Titus she thought he was afraid of her touch.

"You are cold." She stated, then began pulling off the heavy fur she wore. As she did so Titus lunged out and grabbed one of her cold hands, grasping it tightly in his own. Her cold skin sent an explosion of chills through his body, a mixture of excitement and the air. As she made a move to yank it away Titus grasped on tighter, bringing her hands to his lips and letting his mouth trace the skin on the back of her hand.

It was smoother than he could have imagined, enveloping him in building desire that would not be stilled. Looking down, Titus put her hand on his thigh, moving it upwards slowly.

"What are you doing?" she asked, her hand moved away so quickly he did not even see it. The moment her touch disappeared from his body he felt strangely deflated and empty.

"Why do you not warm me up?" Titus spoke boldly, and watched as her face went blank, her expressions melting into the hard-frosted ground beneath their feet. Taking the furs, she tossed them at Titus and climbed back onto the horse.

"You could not handle me." She replied, digging her heels into the horse's sides and urging it into a gallop.

Wrapping his arms around her tightly, Titus could not see her face, although he was certain he caught a hint of amusement on her tone, and wondered if she had said it in coquettish jest or in earnest. Grinning to himself, he closed his eyes and tilted his head back, letting the air rip through his dark hair as they rode quickly through the night. For the first time in his short life, he felt truly free, and could think of no one better to share his newfound freedom with , than an extraordinarily beautiful woman.

* * *

Aziza slowly stripped off her clothing, looking up between the trees as the moon rose slowly. It was a full moon tonight, the sky eerily clear as the stars shone down upon her brightly, twinkling and sparkling.

Grabbing her things, she folded her clothing carefully, setting it in a pile neatly before walking to the large lake before her, buried deep within the woods. The dirt that clung to her hair urged her into the water quickly, after a night of slumber deep below the ground. She had yet to find Titus since she had awoken, but had not felt anything that told her he was in trouble. It seemed the boy had managed to keep himself safe for the day.

As she sunk into the liquid tomb, Aziza smiled to herself, closing her eyes and submersing her head in the depths, letting water surround her and cover her. She had always loved being in the water, swimming freely and feeling herself become weightless in its depths. More than anything, it crept into her body and stole away all tension, all bad memories, and all stressful thought that threatened to send her screaming into the night as each day passed.

At the beginning of her new life, upon learning that she did not have to breathe Aziza truly considered spending her eternity underwater, where she would be able to escape the sun and would be virtually go unharmed, living in a place she loved for all of her days. The only problem would be feeding. If she was deep enough to avoid the sun there would certainly be no humans there, and either way, she was sure it would get lonely after a spell.

Breaking the surface, Aziza moved on her back, treading water lightly as she floated happily on the surface, staring up at the night sky. A sudden breeze flew into her nostrils, bringing with it the distinct musky scent that forced Aziza to look to the banks where she found Titus leaning against a tree, watching her.

As her eyes found his, a small grin crossed his face and he ran a hand through his unruly hair in a way that told Aziza he had seen every single part of her.

The thought of being watched, completely nude, did pique her exhilaration slightly, and she longed to feel his eyes rake her naked body. She wanted to watch the thoughts go through his mind and hear his heart beat faster in his chest, breath hitching and pupils dilating.

Aziza could not deny, the boy was certainly attractive. His pale skin gleamed in the moonlight, creamy and enticing, however each time she thought about giving in and taking him as her own, she was forced to face the responsibility that came with it. Who was to say that she would not attack him if they made love ferociously? What would happen if she killed him? Could she ever forgive herself, when she had been so directly responsible?

Swimming for the banks of the lake, she pulled herself out of the water and onto land, her body dripping beneath the ghostly gleam of the full moon. Bending down, Aziza picked up her clothes as she felt his eyes move up each and every bit of her exposed skin, as if memorizing every single detail. Smiling to herself, she cherished the moment, embracing what it felt like to be alive for just a moment then began to dress again slowly, squeezing the water out of her hair before bending over and weaving it into a single plait.

When she turned back to the tree where Titus had stood, she found him gone, and looked around wildly, searching for every trace of him. Standing still for a moment, Aziza began to follow his scent, stepping quietly until she heard the sounds of unmistakable moans behind a bush in a small clearing.

Stepping around cautiously, she peered over the thick mess of branches and found Titus on the ground, a hand in his pants moving wildly as he moaned aloud, eyes closed. Rooted in her spot, she watched him, unable to move as his cries pierced her eyes.

Beneath his robes he began to thrust into his hand slowly, and Aziza bit her bottom lip, fighting the urge to touch herself with everything she could as her womanhood screamed out in arousal, calling for the attentions of the young man before her.

Digging her nails into her palms she backed away slowly, making her way towards the place she had set up camp that morning and untied their horse from a tree. Hoisting herself up she grabbed the reigns and smiled to herself. She may not have been able to have him, but she certainly had the memory.


	5. Deuteronomy: These Be the Words

**A/N: I DO NOT own any part of **_**True Blood**_**.**

**Deuteronomy**

_**These be the words Moses spoke to all Israel…**_

Titus looked up above him, watching with admiration as Aziza scaled a massive tree with ease, her delicate fingers grasping the bark as she climbed higher and higher, disappearing between a massive tangle of branches.

As she disappeared from view, Titus looked after her, the image of her nude body beneath the gleaming moonlight alive within his mind, replaying over and over on an instant loop. No matter what he did, his mind never strayed far from the thought, the sight of her glorious form so heavenly that he had not even been able to control his baser instincts.

When he spied her, flesh glistening with water as he laid eyes upon her bare breasts and rounded backside, he felt such warmth stir in his loins that he was unable to control himself, grabbing his stiff member with a firm hand and imagining her around him.

Titus was overcome with an overwhelming desire, unlike anything he had ever felt. He believed that perhaps it was simple for the reason that she resisted him, perhaps for the reason that she was so inaccessible to him. Whatever the reason, he wanted her with every fiber in his being.

"I cannot see anything!" she announced from the summit of the massive figure, before hopping lightly from a branch, tumbling through the air and landing on her feet in front of him, brushing bark from her hands nonchalantly as though she had not just descended from the heavens.

In silence, Titus followed her back to their horse, mounting the creature behind her with all his strength to compensate for his lack of height. Wrapping his hands around her waist tightly he pressed himself against her, inhaling her scent and feeling the coldness of her skin against his body.

Kicking her heels into the horse's side, Aziza urged it into a quick gallop, the night tearing around them as wind blew through Titus' hair and once again chilled his already cold skin, yet he clung to her only tighter, savoring the feel of her body beneath his own.

Boldly, Titus reached a hand around, brushing one of her full breasts gently through her thin robes. She twitched slightly beneath him, turning her head without saying anything before returning to her previous position, facing forward. Assuming her silence to be a positive reaction, Titus leaned forward and grasped her, squeezing one of her large breasts over her dress and snaked a hand down between her legs, wishing he could tear away the clothing keeping him from the beautiful skin beneath.

Pulling the reigns tightly she brought the horse to a rapid halt, spinning around and jerking herself from beneath Titus' grasp. Whirling around on him, he gazed at her face, clouded with mixed emotion, anger the first and foremost.

"What are you doing?" she hissed angrily, arched eyebrows furrowed and lips turned down into a frown. Unable to stop himself from grinning, Titus simply looked at her, knowing that deep down, she wanted him, whether she cared to admit it or not.

Once two years ago, Titus had chanced upon a man, a fellow soldier with his father who claimed that the blood drinkers were not only real, but that he had laid with one. In graphic detail, he went on about the sexual adventure, hailing it as the most incredible experience of his life. In his drunken stupor, his story was met by laughter by many, including Titus, but now he wondered if perhaps there was some truth to the man's words. As he sat here now, touching this beautiful creature of darkness he longed to know just what it would be like.

"Cairo is a long journey from here, we all have needs." He leered, unable to stop himself from gazing down at her full breasts, growing hard beneath his own gown. He simply could not help it, every time he was around her his hormones raged out of control, his body craving her like a parched man's desire for water. Never before had he been so overwhelmed by lust, that he could not even stop himself from putting his hands on a woman.

"You _will _restrain yourself, and I beg you to remember that you are in the presence of a princess, as well as a formidable enemy. Try that again, and you just may find your hand missing, do you understand?"

The words flew from her mouth like fire, eyes ablaze with such fury that Titus backed away, momentarily frightened. Even without her fangs bared, she was a force to behold, looking as though at any moment, she might lunge forward and take his head in her hands, snapping his neck like a twig.

Sitting back, he said nothing, slightly deflated and empty with the revelation that he was simply acting like a fool. He had been so blinded by his physical desire for her that he failed to remember just who she was, what she was, and what she was destined for. It was not the simple fact that she had denied him and obviously wanted nothing to do with him, but yes, she was a princess, and he was a lowly common boy. While his father had been a formidable soldier he was no king, and Titus was nothing. In fact, he should not have even been on this horse but on the ground, walking instead of riding beside her. He was nothing but a lowly peasant boy, not a soldier, not a king, and he always would be.

Spinning around she grabbed the reigns, her back to Titus before coaxing the horse into a run once more, and leaving Titus to come to terms with that which he loathed the most: who he really was.

* * *

Aziza clenched the reigns tightly in her hands, feeling Titus' body slump against her back as they rode through the night, his warm breath coming out in soft and even exhales as he slept.

The cool air whipped around her face, sending loose strands of hair from beneath her hood flying about her head. In everything though, the coolness felt quite good, and for the first time, Aziza thanked God that she was no human, for if she was, she would not have been able to quite control her emotion as she did when she had scolded him for touching her earlier in the night.

In the moment that his hand landed on her breast, she longed to sink into him, letting him roam across her form and bring to her the pleasure she had not experienced in so long a time, however she could not give in to her sexual desire for him, not if she wanted to keep him safe. Not if she wanted him to live.

Aziza longed to love, she longed to be intimate and hold someone in her arms tenderly. She wanted to kiss freely, make love wildly, and feel the touch of a man against her flesh however she knew that she could not, because of what she was. It pained her, the fact that she would never love. She lived in fear, fear of perhaps hurting someone or killing them, and that, was the reason she generally tried not to engage physically with humans. Even outside of that, there was the fact that if she ever wished to partner with a man and become his wife, she would far outlive him, feeling the bitter touch of death.

She refused to even consider giving someone the path that she had been forced to take. Aziza hated what she was, and felt that it was a fate no one should have to suffer, and in that, doomed herself to live out the rest of her long life alone.

Aziza wanted to lean back into his touch, letting him grasp her body beneath her clothing and run his warm fingertips across her skin but, she couldn't. She could do no such thing as she struggled to gain control of what she was and her actions.

She felt guilty for the way she had reacted, but knew that her being harsh was the only thing that would stop Titus from breaking her down until she finally succumbed to what she wanted and ended up gravely hurting them both. She saw the flicker behind his eyes when she denied him, the illuminated spark all but disappearing. She had watched as his shoulders slumped and an audible breath leave his mouth as though she had sucked the very air from him. It hurt her, in a way that he would never know, but it was all she could do.

Aziza was unsure just what it was about Titus that appealed to her so. It could have been his fiery will, or his boyish features which certainly spoke for how he would look with age. Aziza was certain most of all it was simply the way he treated her, as if she was human and nothing else.

Sadly, she looked down, imagining another life and time when she would accept his advances eagerly, perhaps being the weaker of the two. But this was not another life, it was not another time, and if she wanted to retain her humanity, Aziza would be forced to deal with the fact that she would simply have to be alone.

* * *

Titus awoke to cold flesh on his face, cheek pressed against the lean and toned back of the princess who sat in front of him. As he felt the horse begin to slow down he sat up, no recollection of even falling asleep in the first place.

He was exhausted, his body was exhausted after staying away through the days and nights. He had not wanted to sleep when she went to ground, stupidly thinking that he had a chance of actually protecting her if trouble befell, however his chivalry was now resulting in fatigue so severe that he found himself asleep without even remembering it.

Blinking rapidly he sat up, wondering why she had not awoken him, although before he began to open his mouth and ask he was reminded of her earlier reaction to his advances and decided against it, not trusting himself to open his mouth.

As the horse galloped slowly to a stop, Titus rubbed his eyes, looking out across the hilly land of the country, illuminated by a clear night sky. Up above, the moon smiled down, shining brightly upon them. A full bright moon, signaling a night for a successful hunt.

"Why do we stop?" he dared himself to ask as Aziza leaped down onto the ground, turning away from him and glancing into the darkness. Instead of answering, she simply continued to look far off, swaying in a manner that caught Titus' eye. Furrowing his brow, he stared at her intently, watching her body move back and forth as though she was drunk.

Suddenly, one of her hands shot out and she grasped at the horse, sinking down onto the ground and pulling her knees to her chin. Jumping down, Titus crouched beside her, unable to think of his wounded pride as she sat before him, visibly unnerved or ailing. No matter what feelings were between them, he was a fugitive, and she was his only means of escape from death. To lose her would prove quite a problem for Titus.

"What is it?" he asked, wondering if she was having another one of her visions. Each time she did, she hunched over, face scrunched up in what appeared to be excruciating pain that he did not want to remember, but this seemed much different from that. Slightly uneasy, he crept around her, glancing at her face and noticed that her skin seemed slightly lighter than usual, the flush of her cheeks gone.

"I am growing weak. I fed earlier, but not much for how long I have gone without blood." She spoke quietly, and Titus stared at her in a mixture of confusion, and slight anger that she refused to help herself. She claimed that she would not kill humans, yet she was going to let herself die for someone who told stories of her kind over fires, frightening children and weaving ancient tales of how to kill and what they had done.

"You are willing to die for those who not give a damn about you." He said before he could stop himself, watching as she turned her head slowly, face void of emotion. Longing to retract the words, Titus inhaled sharply, muscles tense until her lips parted in a small smile.

"I suppose you are right." She spoke in a sad tone, and Titus sat silent, continuing to watch her. Holding up his arm, he pulled back the sleeve of his robes, offering his pale skin.

He tried the last time to get her to feed from him and she had refused, insisting that she was not certain she had the control, but through it all, he wanted her to. It was strange, but Titus wanted her to mark him, he wanted to be able to proudly wear the scars as a badge of armor.

"No." she shook her head, and Titus thrust his arm forward.

"Why not?"

"I already told you, I may hurt you and I cannot bear the thought."

"You threatened to remove my hand not so long ago." He joked, gaining the smallest of smiles in return.

"You underestimate my control Titus. I have told you before and now, I tell you again. I appreciate your willingness to offer yourself to me, but I do not know that I can stop myself from hurting you."

"What about that boy back at Baharah's? You did not kill him?"

"That was different." She choked out in a strained voice, her face suddenly clouding with emotion that Titus could not decipher.

"How?" he nodded his head in challenge, and she opened her mouth, quickly closing it before looking away and shaking her head.

Before she could answer, Titus dug his nails into the flesh of his arm, dragging the ragged edges against his skin so harshly that red droplets rushed to the surface, spilling out onto his white skin. The moment his blood came into contact with the air, Aziza turned her head, nostrils flaring wildly and eyes darkening. Gritting his teeth against the pain, Titus cupped the area of the wound and squeezed, coaxing more of the red fluid out, his eyes never leaving Aziza.

Her fangs emerged and she jumped back, throwing a hand over her mouth and looking away. Lunging forward, Titus grabbed at her wrist, forcing her to look back at him and the blood seeping from his arm. He could tell her resolve was waning for if she really wanted to resist, she would have pulled her arm from his grasp, however it instead remained. Slowly, she turned her head, looking down at his arm as the vessel shook, pain radiating from the wounds.

"What if I hurt you?" she croaked and Titus inched closer, putting a hand on her cheek gently. In the moment of tenderness, he found himself blast back in awe by her beauty, forgetting just how stunning she really was. Beneath the moonlight her skin seemed to almost glow, wavy hair catching a ray of moonlight that caused it to shimmer. Her thick lashes framed sad eyes swimming with such emotion that Titus wanted to reach out and hold her.

"You will not." He breathed, raising his arm and pushing it towards her face. For a moment, she simply stared at the bloody, body shaking before finally lunging forward and grabbing Titus with her arms, teeth digging into his skin. As her fangs broke her flesh he gasped, however the pain was the last thing on his mind as she sucked roughly, pulling the blood from his veins and running her tongue around the puncture wounds.

Strange to him, something in the moment was so purely sensual. Perhaps it was the way he kneeled, her body bent over so that her form was smaller than his own, less intimidating and more subservient. Or, it could have been the strange and slightly pleasurable sensation of her mouth on his arm, causing pain and taking it away all at once. Whichever it was, Titus clung to the strange intimacy of the moment, pushing the memory into his mind as he began to feel weak.

Reaching down, he put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing gently and attempting to let her quietly know that he was growing faint. To his rising horror though, she did not stop, clutching his arm even tighter to his mouth.

"Aziza..." Titus trailed off quietly, beginning to slump over. Beneath him, Aziza began to tremble violently, her body rocking as she squeezed his arm so tightly that Titus almost screamed in pain. As the blood rushed out of his body, he wondered if perhaps he should have simply listened to her. This was going to be the end of his life, because he had wanted so much to please her.

Small dots began to cloud Titus' vision, and without a word, he fell onto the cold ground, blinking slowly. Just as he was about to close his eyes, he suddenly felt cold air hit his arm, and a gently hand move around his neck, cradling him timidly. Raised up, his eyes fluttered, watching as Aziza bit into her own arm then placed it above his mouth, blood already dripping onto his lips.

He accepted her eagerly, letting her blood fill him with new life, invigorating his body and injected him with a sense of euphoria that outshone all the pleasures Titus had ever experienced combined. He felt alive, his body on fire as the blood worked its way into his system, making him anew.

As Aziza pulled her arm away, he looked up at her, reaching out and placing his index finger in the center of her full red lips, smeared with his blood. With his thumb, he parted her lips, before sitting up and taking her face in his hands, kissing her aggressively without warning as desire threatened to overpower him.

Much to his surprise, she did not deny the kiss, and Titus let his tongue venture into her mouth, his blood mingling with her own, the metallic taste sticking to his tongue and coating his teeth. And to his delight, she kissed him back, fangs brushing his lips awkwardly.

Without warning, she jumped back, leaving Titus' grasping at thin air, the absence of her body sending his own into a slight shock.

Standing up, she turned her back to him and stepped away, wrapping both hands around her elbows and slouching over slightly.

"We will make camp here for the night." She spoke softly, and Titus could not bring himself to follow her. He could feel her regret and guilt, although he would not forget the power of the kiss, a passionate feeling that would have lifted him to the sky had so not pulled away.

As Titus sat on the ground, he wondered if perhaps he never should have left home in the first place.

* * *

_Aziza opened her eyes, looking down and grinning as Godric sat between her legs, hands prying apart her thighs as his lips traveled across her skin slowly, leaving small kisses against her skin._

_With a content sigh, she tilted her head back, moving her leg slightly so that his lips pressed harder into her flesh, leaving behind a tingle of excitement that traveled through her body, sending a rush of blood to her womanhood. _

_With a chuckle, Godric moved down and pressed his lips to her bare mound, exhaling just to excite her further. _

Aziza's eyes rolled in the back of her head sharply as she came to, shaking her head and turning sharply as Titus emerged from a thick nestle of trees, his robes soaked in blood and a sharpened branch slung over his shoulder.

As he approached she sat down, glancing up at the sky quietly. Neither had said a word to one another for nearly an hour, since they had kissed.

The kiss. She found herself completely unable to stop thinking about it, the feeling of his lips against her own blasting away every memory and feeling Aziza had felt prior to that moment, the moment of such intensity that even she herself could not restrain herself from kissing him back.

It simply felt so right, so natural, and Aziza longed to feel it once more, like nothing she had ever wanted. Sitting down, Titus buried his hands beneath his shirt and Aziza stood up, walking over to him slowly before sitting down beside him and pulling her head down, reaching back to loosen her plait.

"I would like to thank you for what you did earlier. It was quite brave. You must let me know if you feel weak." She spoke softly, heart sinking as he refused to turn and face her.

"It was nothing. I need you to escape from here." He simply said, a statement that hit Aziza harshly. Furrowing her brows, she found herself slightly angry, although deep down she knew that she was the cause for his anger, and he was right to be angry. She should have broken the kiss the very moment it started, instead of letting herself fall into his arms and mouth.

"It is strange to me, I feel…I feel so human when I am around you. You make me almost forget who I am, what I am, and I have longed to feel that. You must believe that I wish that we could have a chance at being together. I do not know if you are driven merely by sexual desire or the need for companionship, but I believe you should know that I really wish we could."

"You wish? Why wish when you can have what you want? What is stopping you?" Titus snapped.

"Do you know how easily I could hurt you? How easily I could lose control?"

"How would you know when you have not even given it a chance? You think me to be weak-"

"No! No you are anything but. You have not seen the things I have done though Titus, I do not trust myself."

Without warning, Titus lunged forward and knocked Aziza on her back, climbing on top of hers and pressing his mouth to her own violently a hand clenching her jawline powerfully. The kiss was powerful, and as Aziza lay on her back she knew that no longer would she be able to resist, no longer could she deny him.

Sitting up, she pushed him off before standing, grabbing the bottom of her robes and pulling them over her head, revealing her fit and lean body beneath, feminine curves dominating her form. Tossing the robes aside casually, Aziza leaned back and rested on her heels, bringing a hand up and brushing one of her breasts gently.

"What are you doing?" Titus asked, voice dry. Aziza could hear his heartbeat soar beneath his chest, blood rushing freely through his body as arousal coursed through the boy's veins. She almost smiled, hearing, seeing, and smelling every change inside of his body just as it happened, and knowing just exactly what she was doing to him.

"You are right, I have not given it a try. I cannot…I cannot keep denying myself, or denying you." She said honestly, before leaning in and planting a kiss on Titus' lips, feeling his body tense beneath her. Slowly, she pulled her body in so that they sat close to one another and put a hand on his thigh, feeling the faint pulse from his femoral artery.

"Aziza." Titus said in between breaths, and unable to stop herself, Aziza grasped one of his hands, bringing it to one of her breasts. The feel of his palm against her skin was magnificent, her nipple becoming taut beneath his calloused hand. Giving a light squeeze, Titus let out the smallest of moans into Aziza's mouth and she let another hand drop down to his robes, grabbing the growing bulge beneath his waist.

"Wait…" he croaked into her mouth and Aziza ignored him, pushing him onto his back before straddling him, tossing back her wavy hair as her fangs emerged.

Titus seized the opportunity, throwing up a hand in front of his mouth just as Aziza moved in once more. In confusion, she stopped, looking down at him inquisitively.

"We should wait." He said softly and Aziza sat back, unable to understand what he meant.

"What?"

"We have both been awaiting this, and it should not happen like this, on the cold ground in the middle of the world. We should wait, until we reach Cairo."

At this, Aziza was both touched, and frustrated. This had been possibly the only time she would allow herself to pursue him, and now he was saying that he wanted to wait? In the back of her mind, she wondered if he was simply repulsed by her being. Fangs bared, she knew she must have looked and absolute fright, and lowering her head in shame, Aziza brought a hand to her mouth and turned around, blood tears pricking the back of her eyes.

"Do not do that." Titus suddenly said in a harsh voice, his strong hands landing on her bare shoulders. Aziza jerked away from his touch, shaking her head as her lip quivered. Why she had allowed herself to act so foolishly was beyond her because in truth, this boy would never do anything but fear her, just as Baharah said. No human would.

"I believed that just once I could be normal." She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to stop the buildup of bloody tears.

At this, Titus wrapped his arms around Aziza's frame so that his lips grazed the shell of her ear. With warm breath, he breathed upon her, voice soft.

"I could not think of why the Gods saw fit to bless me by giving me such a beautiful woman, but I thank them. Never before have I felt such desire, not even when I laid beside the most beautiful of whores back home. I did not think I would grow old to marry, but hoped to die on the battlefield in glory. But you…your beauty, everything about you is mystical. You forsake just how beautiful you truly are, how powerful you can be, and remain ignorant of how badly I want you. Badly enough that I want to wait so that I can please you as best I can. You said you saw me in your visions of the future and I believe that you and I are to be something great."

His words sent red streaks down her face, and Aziza covered herself as best she could, trying to resist as Titus pried her hands away and looked upon her face. When he did though, she found herself gazing into his eyes, for a moment, believing that perhaps he was not horrified. With a tender touch he wiped the streaks away and leaned in, kissing her softly, and then, Aziza understood her future. She understood what she had seen and then she knew, that he would be the greatest love of her life.


	6. Joshua: After the Death of Moses

**A/N: I DO NOT own any part of **_**True Blood. **_

**Joshua**

_**After the death of Moses…**_

Titus clenched his strong hands into fists, digging his nails into his palms as he felt Aziza's flesh rub against him. Lying beside him, her forearm brushed his own and for once, she did not pull away, allowing her ice-cold skin to come in contact with his own.

Swallowing hard, he continued to look up at the stars, feeling the cold of the ground seep into his back, bringing about a subtle ache that stiffened his muscles. Gods she was so beautiful, and finally, she had proven that she had wanted him._ She _has wanted _him_!

And he had been foolish enough to deny her, letting his presumed honor get in the way of what could have otherwise been an incredible night to remember. For the first time, Titus had caught her with her guard down and gotten so close to what he had been hoping for.

And now, all he had was the dull ache in his loins that was impossible to ignore, a subtle throbbing that served as punishment for him just once, not giving into desire like every other man.

On his back, he listened to Aziza's voice, soft, sensual, husky as she spoke of her home, the warmth and beauty of the country she had been birthed from and Titus listened raptly, clinging onto her every word hoping it could drive the thoughts of sexual desire away. Unfortunately, nothing could as her blood worked through his system and brought about such powerful arousal that his manhood began to grow at an alarming rate.

Sitting up, Titus bit his lip, staring down at the ground between his feet. Beside him, Aziza sat up in alarm, tilting her head to the side.

"What troubles you?" she asked, and Titus turned to her for a moment, then looked away, unable to bear her beauty. Not in this state when he continued to harden with each passing moment, blood rushing through his length and causing him to grow.

Much to his horror, Titus could feel her eyes as they stared at the area of his groin, which while concealed under his clothing, he knew she could tell from her inhuman senses. Her gaze only made things worse, and with a quiet groan of frustration, Titus did the only thing he could think off and slowly began to walk away, feet brushing the ground.

"Where are you going?" she called out behind him, and as he continued to walk blindly, completely unsure of just where he was going a small gust of wind brushed him along with a blur. Suddenly, Titus found himself face to face with Aziza, a hand on his chest.

"I must go, I must be alone." He spoke. He needed to get away from her, he needed to be alone so that he could relieve himself in silence and fantasize all he wanted to about her magnificent body, about what it would feel like to be inside her.

"No, stop." She commanded, putting her hands on his shoulders then leaning in and taking him with a kiss. The moment her full lips touched his own, Titus lunged for her, grasping her body tightly and letting his hand snake down to squeeze her full backside. Clasping it in his hands, he clutched the soft skin, letting her moan into his mouth.

"Under the stars, let us become one." Aziza murmured, letting her lips brush Titus' jawline. He leaned into her mouth, her lips leaving a warm tingle behind. Breathing into the air, Titus clutched her body tightly, unwilling to let her go as her body pressed against his. There was nothing to stop him now, he was throbbing so that it was painfully. He needed her physically, and whether it be under the stars or in Egypt, it would remain a sanctifying moment.

"Take me Titus." She spoke, and Titus obliged, pushing her down onto the ground. He knew that if she truly wanted to resist, she would have thrown him back many paces, tumbling through the air like a little rag doll but instead she fell submissive, and as Titus climbed on top of her, he moaned aloud, the simple feeling of her body beneath his pleasurable.

Diving forward, he let his lips find her neck, inhaling her scent as he trailed the silky smooth skin. Rewarded with a moan, Titus continued to allow himself to adventure across her skin. Sticking out his tongue, he tasted the side of her neck, feeling her shudder beneath him.

This time, when her fangs emerged Titus was not surprised, and he brushed her lips with his tongue hungrily.

Already he had seen her nude, and this time, he took no time in grabbing her robes and pulling them over her head. This time however, resting atop her and gazing down between her legs form his current position, there was no way that Titus could deny himself or deny her. It would not be possible, especially the way she lay on her back, gazing up at him seductively.

Reaching out, Titus brushed one of her nipples gently with his finger, grinning in satisfaction as she arched her back and offered her large breasts to him, a moan escaping her lips. Forcefully, he pinched the small pebble between his thumb and forefinger, squeezing lightly and felt it stiffen beneath his touch.

"Touch me." She muttered softly, her sharp fangs raking full lips and Titus let his thumb trace her lips gently, biting his own as he ached painfully with a desperate need to feel her. Her beauty was surreal, unparalleled but the way her body seemed to writhe and draw to him was the most powerfully arousing thing he had ever seen. Looking down, he observed the way her ribs stuck out from beneath light brown skin, straining under her full breasts that begged to be touched. And touch her he did.

Deftly, Titus brought his hand down to her sternum, tracing the skin between her breasts so that she mewed softly, eyelids fluttering dangerously. Sticking out her tongue, Aziza ran it over her lips and Titus twitched, unable to contain himself any longer.

Pulling up his robes, Titus grasped his hardened member and looked down at Aziza, who only spread her legs further in anticipation. Through wide green eyes, she silently pleaded and without another thought, Titus pressed a hand down on her inner thigh then prepared to enter her.

Just as he met her awaiting entrance, she suddenly shuddered and sat up. Putting a hand on Titus' shoulder, he watched as her eyes grew wide before she pushed him back and reached down to grab her things.

"What is wrong?" Titus asked, slightly and wholly concerned. Unable to speak, he watched as she bent down and began digging into the earth with speed so rapid that her hands moved in a blur.

"The sun is going to rise." She spoke.

"When?"

"Now." She replied, voice full of a terror and desperation that he had never before seen. Forgetting his erection, Titus looked up at the sky and indeed, found the clouds parting to make way for streaks of purple and orange that tore across the sky from a distance.

It was then that Titus became aware of the nature of his queen's vulnerability, of the threatening circumstance that instilled fear within her, fear that drowned out everything else he knew and transformed her from a mighty and invincible creature, to just a girl.

Crouched over, Aziza tore her fingers through the Earth, looking back and forth from the sky to the ground through panic-stricken eyes. In that moment, Titus simply wanted to love her all the more however he knew that if he did not help, she would not be around much longer to love.

Getting down onto his knees, he began to help her, grasping clumps of dirt and tossing them aside to create a deep recess in the ground, deep enough to protect her from the sun. Climbing into the hole, Aziza clutched at the ground, just as the first rays of sunlight broke across the sky.

With a mixture of horror and awe, Titus simply watched as smoke began to rise off her flesh, the light hitting the skin of her cheek. As redness began to blossom across the soft flesh, Aziza's hand flew to it and her eyes widened before a whimper escaped her lips.

The simple sight filled Titus with a newfound empowerment and determination, and with gusto he began to grab handfuls of dirt and pour them back onto her body, covering her from the harsh sun. Sitting back, Aziza closed her eyes and Titus continued to pour dirt over her long after the sun broke the horizon, long after a mound of earth lay over her safely.

Each movement was gentle, caring, tender, and as Titus realized how close he had come to losing Aziza, he forced himself not to imagine the prospect of how things would turn out without her presence. Everything she had done for him, everything she gave him. He needed it, he needed _her_ in every aspect from safety to an insatiable desire for her companionship.

In truth, Titus desperately relied on the company of this strange and powerful woman he had just met, and he was determined not to lose her.

* * *

Aziza looked up at the night sky, twinkling stars masked by heavy clouds that masked the entire night in complete darkness, save for a few glimpses of the moon. A storm approached, threatening to let free thousands upon thousands of tiny frozen crystals that would soon blanket the ground. They needed to reach Cairo, and soon, before the temperatures dropped too low for Titus.

As the horse raced beneath them, Aziza felt Titus' arms tighten around her waist, grasping her tightly, and she leaned back into him, letting his lips graze the shell of her ear as they bounded through the rolling hills.

Aziza was certain that if and Titus had engaged last night, she still wouldn't feel as she felt in this moment, a sense of happiness so profound that she could barely keep herself from smiling, and that happiness came from the simple fact that Titus helped her. Not just happiness, a mixture of joy and ecstatic glee.

Not only had he helped her, he had shoveled the dirt on her body with quick motions, his face tense, heart pumping wildly in his chest. Before, Aziza saw his affections as sheer boyish foolishness. She believed he longed for her without seeing who she really was, but now, in her weakest moment Aziza could not deny the incredible it was to have someone save her life. Someone wanted her to live, and that was enough to keep her happy for quite a long time.

Ever so gently, he squeezed her sides, and Aziza smiled. Again, the promise of feeling him inside of her had been robbed with the arrival of the sunrise, however Aziza was going to make certain that very soon she would finally become his, whether that was in Cairo or on the snow-covered ground.

"Why Cairo?" Titus suddenly asked behind her, and Aziza turned her head slightly so that she could feel his warm breath on her cold skin.

"Egypt accepts my kind with open arms. They worship the blood-drinkers, foolishly yet conveniently I must admit. I know they will side in my plea for protection against my father and Sparta if trouble should arise. I am also in good terms with Ptolemy X and his mother Cleopatra III."

"You are on good terms with the king of Egypt? How?"

"From my travels with my father. The king is quite friendly, even more, curious. And his mother is an incredible kind woman, they have been more than great to me and my father and I. It is a good place for me to get settled and figure out exactly what to do now."

Behind her, Titus said nothing, only wrapped his arms around her even tighter and Aziza closed her eyes, letting out an unnecessary yet audible sigh of utter content. She was happy, truly happy, something she had not felt in a very long time and she could not believe that there was one person in the world, if just one who wanted her alive. It meant the world in so many ways she could not explain.

"I must admit your smile is foreign." Titus said, a chuckle breaking over his voice and Aziza could not help but laugh aloud. It felt strange, uncommon, and nevertheless good. He was right, her smile was a rare occurrence that she found becoming more and more common in his presence. She was giddy, happy, and overall at ease with her current situation for the first time in a long time.

"Perhaps if you had the ability to make me smile more it would not be so strange to you." She replied back with a grin, gripping the reigns tighter as Titus let a hand land on her thigh.

Glancing off into the night, the grin suddenly disappeared from Aziza's face when she noted the scene approaching in the distance. Far off in the rolling hills, nestled beneath withered grass and fallen leaves lay a small hut, a place which Aziza knew all too well.

"_Please! Take what you want but do not hurt my wife!"_

_Baharah cackled wildly, grabbing the man's wife by her flowing brown hair and yanking her onto her feet. Sticking out her tongue, she ran it across the side of the woman's neck and Aziza glanced back at the young boy who sat in the corner, staring through dead eyes that would never see again at his mother and father who were soon to suffer the same fate. _

"_This one is quite delectable Ziz, come, just smell her." Baharah beckoned, eyes narrowing seductively as her fangs glanced the woman's flesh. As she did so, her victim twitched and strained against her captor in horror, screaming wildly and pleading for her life through teary eyes. Her fear only pushed her heartbeat further, blood pulsing through her veins quickly and wildly, so much that even through her sympathy Aziza could not help but run her tongue over her fangs and wonder how she tasted. _

"_Why are you doing this?" the man sobbed, and before Aziza could answer, Baharah flew across the room in a blur and snapped his neck, sending him to the ground. His wife let out a shrill scream and collapsed woefully, making no attempt to escape and Aziza could not blame her. She had just lost everything, what else was there except more monsters like herself and year after year of hurt and heartache?_

"_Come, before I eat her up." Baharah grinned, bending down and sinking her teeth into the widow's neck. Aziza hesitated for a moment, flooded by shame and guilt so immense she felt the back of her eyes prick with blood, but as the air flooded with the scent of blood, red fluid seeping from Baharah's mouth she buried her humanity and dove for her victim. _

Twitching lightly, Aziza felt the blood spatter her face, warm fluid gushing into her mouth rapidly as the woman twitched beneath her, screaming and letting out cries that sent very human shivers down her spine. Her hands clutched, her fingernails raked, and her eyes, wide with horror gazed up at Aziza as she and Baharah took turns, each showing no mercy as the other drained the life from the woman who had just been robbed of life emotionally. She thrashed, she cried out for death, and in the end, although Aziza walked away with a belly full of warm blood, even though the sticky fluid rested sweetly upon her lips, she was ashamed. She was a monster, she was a demon, she was everything she had come to fear in her Hebrew faith.

Gazing off into the distance, she tensed as she stared across the rolling hills and looked upon the place where she had committed such treachery.

Leaning forward, she pried herself from Titus' grasp and steered the horse to the left, veering away from the place. Staring off into the night Aziza brought the horse to a halt before jumping down.

She needed to get as far away from this place as possible, and knew that it would not be done on horse. Turning to face Titus, she handed him the reigns.

"This beast will not steer you wrong. Let it carry you where it wants to lead, and I promise you that we will meet together."

"What do you mean let it carry me? It is an animal, it has no sense of where to go." Titus replied incredulously, and Aziza leaned forward and put a hand on the horse's head, leaning down and brushing her lips against its ear. Immediately, they pricked up and Aziza allowed herself a small smile, running her fingers through silky strands of its white mane.

The creature was truly and unbelievably beautiful, and over the course of their short journey, Aziza had come to appreciate it more and more with each passing day. Not only was he of great pace, galloping yards and yards without so much as a breath or drink, but he also possessed a kind temperament, and an understanding to her words.

"Follow north, continue on my path. I will search for a place to rest tomorrow morn, and find you water Job." She spoke quietly, and the horse let out a soft rumble, turning its head slightly and nuzzling her gently with its muzzle. Bowing her head, she let herself brush against his own before petting his head lightly and taking a step back.

"Where are you going?!" Titus asked, this time appearing unsettled.

"I'll see you soon." She said then took off in a blur, getting as far away from the bad memory as possible


	7. Judges: Now After the Death of Joshua

**A/N: I DO NOT own any part of **_**True Blood**_**.**

**Judges**

_**Now after the death of Joshua…**_

Aziza tore through the night, the wind wiping strands of her hair around wildly as she sprinted across the hills in search of a place for respite. She needed a place to shield her from not only the sun, but from the memories that followed as well.

That place. She could not get far enough, no matter how hard and far she ran. It would follow her, just like the souls of all those she had slain. Finally, she came to a stop and collapsed to the ground, falling onto her knees and turning on her side as the familiar pains began to sear through her head.

"_The end of an era. I never could have dreamed it being like this, the world as it has become and as it is. Isn't it beautiful?"_

_Aziza glanced up at the Paris stars. One hour and counting until the turn of the century, until a new journey lay before them. The only thing she could wish was that Godric was standing beside her._

"_I wonder where He is." She said aloud, turning to face her old friend Caderyn._

"_He's out there somewhere, probably watching the stars like we have so many times. It is funny that we are such creatures of habit even when facing the end of a century one after another. We have stood looking at the stars now for so many centuries, no matter where we have been. In Egypt or here in Paris._

_Aziza smiled, glancing down at the champagne flute filled with blood. Clutching the glass tightly between dainty fingers she brought it to her lips then took a sip, looking over at her longtime friend._

"_It seems like an eternity. Have you ever considered leaving it all? Meeting the sun and giving up immortality? How much longer can we remain here before we lose our very souls? I dread the upcoming years. Over 1900 years, that is how long I have lived. What can a new age bring besides more misery and reminder of why I should be dead?"_

"_What about all the good that can come? In another century we will be looking at a new millennium. Is that not worth staying alive for?"_

"_And face more of the war? More of the shit? Humans seek to destroy themselves. I gave up on the human race a long time ago."_

"_Then what are you doing here? Protecting one of the very humans who you have given up on?"_

"_I owe him."_

"_You love him."_

_Aziza turned and faced Caderyn, narrowing her eyes with a hiss. _

"_That is a lie and you know it…there is only one I ever have and ever will love."_

Aziza gasped, the pain threatening to tear her skull apart. Clutching the ground she squeezed her eyes shut so tightly that small drops of blood slipped past her lids and down her cheeks. Wiping it off her face she pulled herself to her feet with new resolve and glanced around. The sun would rise soon and she needed a place to go to ground. More importantly, she needed a place where Titus would stay safe through the morning while she rested. Naturally, an abandoned home would be perfect, but the one she just passed was not an option. Not if she wanted to maintain her sanity. No, she needed somewhere else to stay, and somewhere quick.

Looking around, she lingered for a moment hoping that the horse would pick up her scent then took off aimlessly, praying to God that she would come across someplace safe. After another fifteen minutes, she found herself at another small home and stopped, glancing up at the sky.

The night clouds threatened to break at any moment, giving way to the sun. She had no time to be picky, so Aziza made her way round the back of the home and checked it out, making sure there was no human presence. Finding none, she knelt down and dug herself a spot before going to ground.

Covering herself, she closed her eyes, body shutting down. Hoping Titus would make it safely and did all that she could and felt her body sink into a stupor, muscles freezing. She once more closed her eyes and ceased all thought and existence. She once more returned to the world of the dead.

* * *

Titus looked up, watching as Aziza walked towards him wiping dirt off her clothing. She shook the heavy fabric of her garments quickly, releasing flecks of dirt from them. He noted that as she continued forward tiny brown specks dotted her dark waves, which framed her face in an unruly manner conducive to slumber.

"Did you rest well?" he inquired, and she glanced up at him, reaching up and brushing several locks of hair out of her beautiful bronzed face.

"It is not rest as you know it, but yes, I did. I trust you did as well?"

Titus hesitated for a moment, naturally caught in a lie. He was still not used to the alternate lifestyle of sleeping during the day and remaining active during the night. It would certainly take some getting used to. Each time Aziza retired, he found his body wired, anticipating her return and wanting to do nothing more than everything he could before nightfall fell. It was only natural to attempt to accomplish as much as possible while the sun still hung in the sky, and to force his body to quickly shift to a nocturnal state was going to take some time.

"The Earth has tainted your hair." Titus said, reaching forward and letting his fingertips brush stray specks of dirt from Aziza's hair. Much to his surprise she did not resist, but allowed him to do so.

Recalling the days when he would stand behind his mother, plaiting her slowly-greying hair he wove her raven strands between his fingers gently, being sure to pull tightly but not too much.

"Where have you learned this?" Aziza raised an eyebrow, and he could see a small smirk playing on her full lips and her voice was filled with evident amusement.

"My mother." He simply replied and continued to let his fingers whip through her hair, paying close attention as his knuckles brushed the nape of her neck. Instead of receiving a response as he had hoped however, Aziza merely stood completely still as he continued to plait her hair. Finally, he knotted the end and one last time breathed in the scent that clung to her dark locks then took a step back.

"You have quite delicate fingers. It is surprising." Aziza mused then turned around to face Titus. For a moment, her eyes met his and he found himself frozen in his spot, captured in her fiery gaze. Her dark eyes tugged at him dangerously and he leaned in, his heart fluttering wildly in his chest with the promise of another kiss. Her full lips, soft and cold, yet warm and inviting at the same time.

"We must go." Aziza said, placing a hand between his lips and her own. Immediately, his shoulders sank and frustration coursed throughout him. Had he done something wrong once more? Had she not so shortly ago enticed him? Had he missed his one and only chance to be with her?

Instead of saying anything he simply followed her, mounting the horse without a word. Indeed, the creature had somehow managed to get him where he needed to go that day, and he began to wonder if perhaps Aziza was right. Maybe the animal was indeed smarter than previously thought.

Aziza climbed on as well and took the reins in her hands tightly. Bending over, she pulled up her robes then seated herself on the horse better before commanding it.

Forward they went, bursting through the night. It was then that Titus began to wonder for the first time what exactly was in store for him. What was he to do besides simply follow her around like some sort of pet? She said they would go to Egypt where he would be protected from persecution for his supposed crimes back in Sparta. But what came after? Would he simply start a new life? Would he carry on a nomadic existence? What came next?

The only answer that seemed somewhat realistic was being with her, but what did that mean? He had never truly considered it. She was immortal, she would live forever, and forever meant wars, experiences, and lovers to last a lifetime. Where did Titus fit? Would he be forgotten the moment they set foot in Egypt.

But she had said she had seen a future together. What did that mean? Were they really destined to be together? Or was he living on some boyish fantasy captured by being in love for the first time? Was he really even _in l_ove, or overtaken by infatuation for a creature so powerful and beautiful that she was irresistible. After all, would he have felt the same way if she was human? She was beautiful, but without power…she was just like any other woman.

These thoughts continued throughout his head as they trekked across the hills. Titus began to realize with each passing day that the landscape was beginning the change. He was seeing more and more foreign plants and landmasses. Things no longer looked as ordinary and recognizable as they had before, and the rolling hills were beginning to give way to unfamiliar terrain. He could not distinguish how far they were from Cairo, but he knew they were further away than Titus had ever been from home.

As they continued to bound through the night, he pondered what they would have said back home. His presence would have certainly gone noticed, after all he was to become a warrior with the other boys and after years of unsuccessfully attempting to join the army it was expected that he would be the first to try his hand. How fast would news travel of his captivity and newfound freedom? Of his new companion, the wanted princess of Somalia who was destined to become queen.

Destined to become queen. It was something he had never thought of. Women in Sparta had considerable power, more so than in other states and Sparta still reigned supreme. Not only had he taken a man's wife, but it is possible that the future would have been drastically different if Aziza became queen. He knew she would never use her strengths for anything but her foolish submission, but he could tell after so long she would take advantage of her sharp tongue and the fear she raised in the hearts of men.

He continued to ponder these thoughts throughout the night. It was lasting longer now, the day growing shorter and the air growing cold. In truth, Titus had been eating less and less. He spent more of his time watching Aziza sleep rather than sleeping himself, and was growing weaker by the day. He always had a small frame, but now the cold bit at him harshly, piercing his skin and sinking into his very bones. All he could do to stay warm was hug his thin clothes tightly around his small body, as Aziza's body temperature proved to be more detrimental than initially thought. By now, his hope was to continue feeding on her blood which sustained him in a way that he had never felt before.

Titus wondered what his father would have thought. Of course, he would have chastised his son for running away from his death instead of confronting it. His father had died draped in honor and glory, and Titus shied away from the opportunity. He begged for his life, and there was nothing honorable about it.

Suddenly, Aziza pulled the reigns sharply and the horse reared. Galloping to the top of a hill, he squinted his eyes and was just able to make out the rising smoke and speckled lights of a sleepy village. Clutching the leather straps between her long fingers tightly she turned her head slightly, glancing at Titus.

"This is the first village we have come across since we left. I fear we may have veered off course. We are not to rightly encounter any life until we reach the far south." Aziza said, looking up at the sky.

At this Titus' stomach sank slightly. He just wanted to get to Cairo and end this journey so he could discover the next part of his life and find out just what was coming to him.

He also wanted to discover where his future rested with Aziza, and see just how much she really knew. Of course he had no idea what she really saw in her visions, but no one could ever really tell the future could they? There always had to be room for change, no future could be definite.

They rode throughout the night as the clouds began to part and the morning threatened to arrive. After hours of silence in the freezing cold, Aziza finally took them to what appeared to be an abandoned farm. Dismounting gracefully, Titus remained atop the horse for a moment, glancing over at a nearby stream. The waters ran slowly, with a width of perhaps 10 feet or so. It was only when he realized he was getting closer to it that he dismounted and took several steps closer.

The horse bent down to lap up the cool water eagerly, which reflected both the moon and the stars in its glassy mirror. Bending down, Titus let his fingers dip into the cool pool, immediately jerking them out as the cold temperatures shot up his arm and caused him to shiver violently. Beside him, the horse moved and he found himself frozen in his footsteps from both the shock of the cold and the sight before him.

Without so much as a word or care, Aziza peeled off her clothing. It was like a dream, watching her slowly undress and expose her bronzed skin which shone beneath the moonlight. Reaching up, she loosened her hair, arching her back as her hands released the twisted strands. With her full breasts thrust forward she looked like some sort of sexual goddess. All he could think of was letting his fingertips trace her skin. He wanted to feel her nipples become taut beneath his hands. Just the thought of her skin in the palm of his hands was enough to send a chill down his spine.

Wading into the waters, she submersed herself until it reached mid-thigh. Bending down she splashed water onto herself and let it trickle down her hair. Without reservation she lunged forward, disappearing beneath the dark depths of the stream before emerging several lengths away.

Pushing back her hair, Aziza turned her lamp-like eyes on Titus. She stroked over slowly, the currant pushing her slightly as she made her way towards Titus.

"Join me." She said, treading water. Titus stood for a moment, before taking a step back.

"It is too cold." He replied truthfully, and she frowned for a moment before nodding.

"I forget sometimes." She said softly before pulling herself out of the water. Titus watched in envy as she slid on her clothing once more without so much as a shiver or chill. What it would be to have her power, he comforts of being such a being.

Power, influence. He would give anything to have her status, her power. Walking over to her, he grasped her wrist as she began to dress. For a moment she glanced down at his wrist then met his eyes, furrowing her brow.

"What is it?" she asked.

"How does one become…immortal? How did you become what you are?"

For a long moment Aziza did not answer, and Titus immediately regretted his question. He watched as her eyes dimmed as though disappointed. She let out a heavy sigh, which he knew meant he had done something wrong for she had no need to breath. He longed to retract his statement, but he wanted to know.

"I knew that there would come a time when you would begin to question. I will tell you at once Titus, being immortal is no gift. It is a curse. I am doomed to forever walk this land unable to love for fear of losing and hurting others. I will never again feel the sun on my face without suffering, and I must take lives to simply survive. I am a monster, not a God. Any man who wishes for such power is an ignorant fool and nothing but."

Immediately he felt the urge to respond back angrily. What was so foolish about wanting power? She herself fed on the sick and had managed to feed on him without killing him. How hard could it really be? More importantly, why did she frown upon what she had so much?

"I will tell you, although I will never make you what I have become. It is a process of death and re-emergence from the grave. Come, let us find warmth. I can see that you are uncomfortable."

Titus said nothing and only followed her to an abandoned home that still looked to be in somewhat god of shape. Pulling back the thick curtain which hung in a frame, she stepped through. Titus found himself surrounded in immediate darkness. Next to him, Aziza grabbed his hand sending freezing shockwaves up his arm. Leading him through the darkness, again he longed to experience such a lack of human quality.

"Put down your things here. You should be safe from the cold, I brought along extra coverings."

Together they sorted through their things. Laying down several blankets Titus sat on the hard floor, his small frame stinging with the cold. Murmuring something under her breath Aziza mulled about the empty home, picking up things in the darkness that he could not see. As his body began to relax, he closed his eyes and sank off into a light slumber, only to awaken by a surprising warmth.

Opening his eyes he found himself staring at a small fire, surrounded by a wall of stones to keep the flames from running amok. He was uncertain of how long he had slumbered, as he could never really tell how quickly it took Aziza to do things.

Walking over she laid down beside him, careful not to let her skin come in contact with his although he was certain her cold flesh would warm him better than anything.

"How long did I slumber?" he asked.

"Not an hour. You have not been eating properly, you grow thinner every day. Tomorrow we will take care of that. I think perhaps we should stay here for a night or two."

"Why?" Titus asked weakly, feeling worse than he had before he had gone to sleep. What was wrong with him?

"You will become ill if you keep this up. You are already weak, I can see. There would be no point in my rescuing you if you are to die before we reach Cairo. Here." She breathed, before biting down on her arm and releasing two streams of blood from her flesh. Offering her arm to Titus he placed his hand on her forearm and brought it to his lips, lapping up her blood eagerly. No matter how much he did not want to admit it, she was right. He was becoming weaker by the day, from battling the cold and failure to eat.

The moment her blood hit his tongue he felt invigorated, his strength returning. Was this how she felt all the time?

After several moments she pulled her arm away, the wound becoming less visible until Titus was certain it had completely healed. He looked up at her, unable to make out her face in the total and complete darkness. He could feel her presence, like silk. Her smooth body beside his own, guarding him like a wild cat watching over her young.

"How I became this creature I am. It is no simple task, the method of turning a human being into a blood-drinker is somewhat…complicated. I met Baharah one night…there was something so strange about her. Forbidden, sensual, she was everything I knew I was to stay away from. She was everything that was sin, everything that was evil, and she was just what I wanted to find. I remember she was so intoxicating, the way every man could not take his eyes off her. Her hair flowed down her shoulders and her skin glowed pale like moonlight. Pale, so strange for a Persian woman. I was out that night, disobeying my father. Of course he did not know, but I found some secret thrill in rebelling against authority, rebelling against what was expected of me.

I was a princess, and my father had made a pact with Christians. He taught my sister and I to embrace the faith, and I loved the thought of having someone who cared so tremendously deeply for me. It made more sense than previous faiths. Yet I was bound by so many rules. Rules of what I could do with my body, rules of what man expected of me. I was to be pure, presented to my husband untouched and unsoiled. But what was the fun in that? I loved the way it felt to be touched, the sensations that came with desire. So at night I would seek out the company of those to give me what I wanted. They were men, young and old, and my body ached for them. My being longed to be touched not just by men but by anyone I desired.

I went out in search of pleasure and found something much more enticing. The way she looked at me with her eyes, I knew I had to lay with her. She was so beautiful, standing there in illustrious desire. I knew because I could not have her that I _needed_ her. She seduced me so effortlessly, in a way I longed to be able to do. And when we went to bed together, I felt as though I was going to see the stars and the moon, I was certain that I would be taken to an entirely different realm of pleasure.

Pleasure has long been something interesting to me. I do not know of your sexual nature, however I can safely assume you have been with a woman by the way you have touched me. I have often thrived on pleasure. I was dead long before my life truly ended, and pleasure was the one thing that made me feel real again. Having a man atop me and inside of me was the most incredible feeling in the world. It was the one time I felt desirable. Who would dare announce their affections for a princess? Especially one kept shielded and virginal by her father.

That night I anticipated what would be the most passionate experience of my life. Little did I know what was in store for me. Baharah had not intended to sire me, in fact she meant to only kill me and leave it at that. I remember the pain that seeped from my flesh when her teeth pierced me, and I wondered if it was punishment for what I had been doing. I had heard the rumors of blood-drinkers, we all have, but until experiencing their presence firsthand you can never quite comprehend the true nature and horror."

At this Titus shifted slightly. It was true. Tales had been spun and thrown about for years, but until he had really met Aziza he could not grasp the full magnitude of her power.

"She all but bled me dry and I thought it was the end, but I think something in her changed. Perhaps it was that I did not beg for my life as Baharah had been so accustomed to. She thrives on madness and pain, she is sadistic in every sense. Not only was I willing to accept my fate, I looked towards it. What else did I have to live for but a life of pampered emptiness? I would marry a man I did not love and bear him children while he philandered. I would voice empty opinions on matters that I could no longer care about and in the end I would die, perhaps in childbirth, perhaps of old age. I would die unhappy and lacking any purpose in my life. What was the point of it all?

Baharah knew that. She could see that I had given up, but more I think she saw that I did not fear death. So she gave me her blood and drained me completely. It is the ritual and necessity of making a blood-drinker. I did not know what she was doing, nor did she tell me. All I knew was that I was dying a very blissful death. She carried me out into the dark, and after that I remembered nothing until I awoke.

At a later time I asked the same question as you. A blood-drinker and their newly-made child will go to ground for a week, buried beneath the Earth and come out when the child has been reborn. It is a wonderful and horrifying feeling at once, the newfound strength and the insatiable hunger. I thought I would die then and there if I did not fill my stomach, only to discover what I needed to fill it. I thought perhaps I could simply starve myself, but that proved to be more painful than the loss of my humanity. And now here I am, still trying to maintain my ties to humanity all the while knowing I will never truly be human again."

Titus absorbed her words. It was perhaps the most she had ever said at once, and the deepest she had ever revealed before. It was interesting to know that she was not the regal and virtuous woman she seemed, although their short stay with Baharah had given him insight into that. But to think she had been with many men. How many to be exact? Now, he could not resist the fleeting thought of being with her. Her proclamation of falling slavery to lust was simply too much.

Bringing his legs close to his body he continued to fight off the cold, which certainly held less of a sting now that he had the warmth of the fire and Aziza's blood. Nevertheless he was still human. Blinking rapidly, he continued to think on her words and her tale, trying to imagine her as vulnerable as she made herself sound.

"What troubles your mind?" she whispered beside him, and Titus turned his head slightly so that he could just make out her figure beside him. She was laying closer than he initially thought. Her lack of warmth made it hard to determine where she was but she rested on her side strangely close.

"Nothing I just cannot imagine you in a vulnerable state." He replied, noting that he was finding it easier to speak his mind around her. He simply said what he thought, something that was wonderful to do. So much effort went into saying the right thing and wording it correctly. It was nice to simply speak what he was thinking without hesitation.

"I am far less powerful than you think Titus, especially in your company." She replied softly, before leaning in and seeking out his lips in the dark. As if magnetically drawn, he froze for a moment, surprised by her action. After several fleeting seconds she pulled away, her soft lips leaving Titus feeling barren and lonely. He longed for her touch.

"How could I make you feel vulnerable?" he breathed, heart pounding in his chest.

With this, Aziza did not answer. Instead she stood up and went to add more firewood to the small fire then crossed the shabby house, looking up at the ceiling. The room in which they remained was windowless, and he could tell she was looking to see if she would be forced to go underground as usual.

Before he knew it, Titus' eyes were slipping closed and he found himself succumbing to his fatigue, but when he awoke during the morning she was there, resting beside him with a face as peaceful and serene as Hera herself. And Titus once again began to wonder, who and what he would be without her. More importantly, he began to wonder what the strange emotion stronger than desire he felt for her was, because his heart pounded not out of arousal, but out of strange nervousness. It was foreign and all too apparent.

He was in love.


	8. Ruth: In the Days When Judges Ruled

**A/N: I DO NOT own **_**True Blood**_**.**

**Ruth**

_**In the days when the judges ruled…**_

Aziza watched as Titus gnawed on the leg of a boar she had hunted down and brought back for him. After cooking the fat creature on a spit she was surprised that the scent had not brought creatures or humans from leagues around. It was powerful and she knew that if she had been human the succulent aroma would have been enough to make her resort to her baser instincts and fall to the ground picking the skin apart like an animal.

Her own feast lay not in the delicate flesh of animals but in the small boy before her. She had captured the creature and brought it back just as the sun set, finding Titus sleeping soundly. She could tell it was the first time that he had been asleep when she awoke and Aziza was certain that he was still trying to adapt to her nocturnal lifestyle, something she felt guilty about.

As he licked juices off his fingers Aziza sat down on the ground beside him, attempting to figure out her plan. They would now be two days behind, and she was not comfortable setting off that day. Aziza had elected to remain in place for one more night before departing the next, meaning they would be forced to travel faster than ever before if they were to make it to Cairo in due time.

Glancing down at Titus she stood, making a mental note to refer to him as Godric. She was a smooth liar, but if caught off guard the both of them could slip up and reveal their identities, which would pose a grave threat if they were not under the protection of the pharaoh. Walking through the fire-tinged darkness she stared up and around the strongly-built home then let out a very human sigh, glancing back at Titus.

He watched her as he sucked the meat clean off of several bones, and she gazed. Huddled in the corner he looked like a little boy. He seemed so young although he was a man by all rights. In fact she could not forget that she was barely older than him but still he seemed to small sitting there. Aziza wondered the forbidden thought: what would it be like if she made him one of the damned? Just how powerful would he be?

She quickly shook the thought out of her head and walked over, sitting back down beside him. Discarded a few bones on the floor he wiped his mouth on his sleeve then glanced at Aziza with swimming eyes. She gave him a small smile then lifted her knees, resting her chin on them and hugging her shins.

"You were hungry." She said, observing as he continued to tear about the meat.

Titus said nothing, looking away and Aziza smiled. She could only imagine having him as one of the servants around her house. Certainly he would have been of both entertainment and much trouble. Having carnal relations right under her father's nose, nothing made her more smug. As she stared at him she could see that even in another lifetime their meeting would have perhaps still remained possible. Furrowing her brow, a thought suddenly crept into her head and Aziza glanced at Titus.

"Were you to be wed? Is there a woman who awaits your return?" she asked aloud, and Titus almost choked on the piece of meat he had been devouring, looking up at her with wide eyes. Swallowing his cleared his throat and wiped his fingers on the blanket he sat one.

"What?"

"Were you betrothed? Is there a woman who waits for you?" she repeated again, this time her eyes never leaving her own. For the first time he seemed downright embarrassed and he shook his head and shrugged at the same time.

"There was a girl I was presumed to marry but my father never arranged it." He finally said.

"What did she look like?" Aziza continued, evermore curious into the live she had taken away from him.

"She was not beautiful if that is what you are asking. She was quite round, overfed, and rich. Our fathers were friends dating back to our childhood and hers always said that if my father never made a formal proposal for marriage he would give her off to someone else. I do not believe he ever did. After my father died she and I remained friends and it was assumed that the two of us would be married although I did not have much to give. Her father was waiting for a war so that I could come back a soldier."

"When I first learned I would marry Nabis' son…well, I had heard a lot of rumors. Of course I had no say in the matter, my only regret is that if Nabis continues to deal with my father he will likely ask for the hand of my next sister after she bleeds. Nabis' son is a bit…difficult. I have not had the mispleasure of meeting him in person though I know him to be sadistic and a pain. He will not treat my sister well I fear, it plagues me every day." She shook her head.

"What is your sister like?" Titus asked.

"She is young. Foolish. And beautiful, for her age. She will be more so when she has gotten older. She looks a lot like our mother, while I take after father. She loves the silly life of royalty, marrying a prince no matter how torturous would be a joy for her. I only fear her idea of ruling. She has been taught for a long time of course but she does not grasp the ideas of politics and war. I see it as a danger for the people."

"What do you mean to do now?"

"I still do not know. I would like to do something to help of course. I am sure the pharaoh will find a place for me. As for you, you are free to do whatsoever you like once we reach Cairo. The whores of Egypt are particularly beautiful. Their skin smells of roses and is soft like satin." Aziza said with a small grin, silently wondering what exactly he _would _do when they arrived to the city. She had only mentioned the latter in chest but in earnest she would miss having his presence around.

"I am sure no woman could be as beautiful as you Aziza, not in all that lands. Have you ever been to any others?" he suddenly asked.

"No. My home country, Sparta, Rome, and Greece. I have hopes to travel someday. I know I will with this damned immortality. I often wonder what does lay out there. The people and the places, it has to be beautiful in the far corners of the world."

"I have always wanted to see the world as well. If I was like you we could travel the world together."

"If you were like me I would never be able to live with myself. Let us not talk of these things tonight. We must get your strength up before we return on the road. I will give you some more of my blood to continue your recovery." Aziza spoke before biting her arm and holding it out.

Titus grasped it, bringing his lips to her skin and sucking until she stopped him. As he lapped up the last dregs he eyed her with a hungry look that made her regret what she had done, yet it was nice to come under his desire, even when he continuously hounded after her and even when she knew they could never have anything more than brief sexual flirtations. But she would be right to allow herself to slip just once, would she not? She could not become pregnant and bear him bastard children. What was wrong with tempting fate for just once in her long life?

Glancing at Titus she once again found herself wondering about his sexual adventures and experiences. Of course he looked nothing more than an innocent boy but she certainly knew the truth. But just how much of the world did he know? How many women had he been with? Enough o become a master of pleasure? The very thought intrigued her, although she could certainly admit that sex with humans was not as gratifying anymore.

The roughness, the biting, it was more exhilarating with another one of her kind knowing she could surpass all limits of the human body. With humans she had to be careful not to be too rough, and to control herself elsewise she could have a bit of a mess on her hands.

"Titus may I ask you another question?" she finally said. He nodded, his wide eyes shifting back and forth as he tried to make sense of her in the dying firelight.

"How many woman have you been with?" she continued.

This time he could not stop the shock from coloring his face. When he finally composed himself this time he looked at her awkwardly.

"Why do you ask me these questions?"

"Because I am curious. I am sorry if I have overstepped my boundaries." She apologized quickly but he chuckled under his breath and she had forgotten the additional confidence her blood had given him.

"Well not many. Maybe three I suppose. Two were whores, one was a girl I knew from my childhood who had been taken by a few other guys."

"How old were you when you bedded your first woman?"

"12. I went with my father." He answered then stood up.

"Where are you going?" Aziza asked sharply, immediately feeling protective.

"I must relieve myself. You are welcome to join." He smirked coyly then made his way from their hideout. Aziza got up and followed so quietly that he never noticed her presence. Watching carefully she made certain he was safe, then flew back to her spot just as he turned back to return. When he arrived and sat down once more he was never even aware she had left her spot.

"So what have we to do until the sun comes up?" Titus said, and Aziza gave a small smile.

"Perhaps you shall tell me Titus. Or Godric, I must accustom myself to calling you."

"Yes, Godric. I am Godric, not Titus. And you my fair lady? Who may you be? A sultan's wife or a whore from the desert lands?" he raised his eyebrow in suggesting and Aziza laughed aloud.

"Well I suppose I could play a whore for just one night. Of course that would mean that you sir are…?"

"The captain of a ship. I have no home I sail away to the ends of the earth, and you and your lovely friends have been paid to spend the night with the likes of my crew. We have not seen women in a fair amount of time and you and yours are as beautiful as the sea."

Aziza laughed aloud and Titus chuckled beside her before she stood up.

"Well my good captain, what will you have me do?"

"Whatever it is that you do best fair lady." Titus replied with a grin and Aziza smirked, before getting down on her knees in a flash and crawling over to Titus, her braid slung over her shoulder. Sitting up on her knees she reached over and loosened it, hair tumbling down in waves then got back on her knees and tossed her long locks back, smirking at Titus with a smoldering stare.

"The thing I do best? Let me think…" Aziza trailed off, her lips brushing Titus' own. He inhaled sharply and she grinned, before shooting across the room and putting her hands up. "Well the thing I do best captain is dance of course. Although it appears that is not quite what you seemed to have in mind."

"Dance for me then fair lady." Titus grinned, and Aziza began to spin around, humming under her breath to far away music and taking steps to a traditional native court dance. Swinging her arms around she moved slowly, twirling lightly on her feet all the while watching Titus with a sly smile on her face. It had been long since she had fun, and she was certainly having it now.

Finally she gave a low bow then clapped her hands together and beckoned Titus.

"Do you dance? You must know how."

"I did not grow up with the need for dancing or impressing kings. The only dance I know is dance on the battlefield."

"Come, I'll teach you."

Titus got up and walked over with a pronounced shuffle, evidently displeased but not willing to make Aziza unhappy. Grabbing his hands she stepped lightly on her feet, leading him to find that despite his small size when it came to dancing he was not particularly skilled on his feet. After he tripped for the third time Aziza lunged forward and caught him by his elbow then pushed him up. He moved away from her then sat down stubbornly. Aziza fell down beside him and wished they could leave that night, although it was too late.

"I suppose I will go see the night. Stay here, I beg you not to get into trouble."

Titus said nothing then slid onto the floor, pulling blankets over himself. Aziza left then took off into the night, feeling the cold wind on her skin. As she rushed through the darkness she scaled a tree and clenched its branches tightly, closing her eyes just as her head split open and the familiar pain took over.

"_You seem sad."_

_His voice was cool and gentle, despite his vicious nature. Looking over him she smiled as best she could, brushing a hand through his blonde hair then leaned down and gave the gentlest of kisses on his soft lips before standing up. _

"_I suppose I am. Would you be a darling and fix up my corset? I have a meeting with the king in some time and I should start making myself presentable."_

_He stood up, his frame towering over her as he grabbed her corset and helped her into it. Glancing at herself in the mirror she stared at his reflection then reached back and grabbed his hand. _

"_Godric is a fool for not seeing how much you mean. If I had a woman as beautiful as you as my own I would never let you go."_

_At this she tilted her head back and laughed, as did he. _

"_Eric Northman you…I cannot find a word to describe you. If I were a foolish woman I might believe your words." She smiled, glancing at his reflection in the mirror. _

"_Well half of that statement is true. You are beautiful, but I do not think I would be able to keep you all for myself." He grinned, showing his white teeth then leaned down, pressing his lips to her neck. She bit her lip then cleared her throat. _

"_I told you I have a meeting with the king. Now help me dress. I am sure you can entertain yourself while I am gone. That servant girl I had last night is quite eager to meet you." She turned her head and Eric began to lace her corset, pulling the laces up tightly. _

"_It would not be a fete without you. Hurry back because I am not sure just how long I can contain myself before I rip these things off of you." He put his hands on her waist and she closed her eyes for a moment, considering letting him have her. _

_Just as she prepared to turn around there was a knock on the door. _

"_Enter." She commanded, Eric's hands still on her body. In peeped in a young boy of about 15 or so with shoulder-length brown hair. He looked down, blood rushing into his cheeks and behind her Eric chuckled, fangs emerging. _

"_Do not be afraid he will not hurt you." She leaned back and slapped Eric lightly as the boy shook and blanched. _

"_K-k-king H-henry requests your presence Milday."_

"_Tell the King I will be with him shortly. And do not let him bully you I know he can be frightening but remember, beneath it all he is just a fat man. Do not worry you will not go the way of poor Anne." Aziza spoke with a wink and the boy trembled then rushed out without another word leaving her and Eric laughing in his midst._

She almost tumbled from the tree her head hurt so bad. As she gripped at a limb she blinked blood tears out of her eyes rapidly. There were lights dancing in her vision. As she wiped her hand across her eyes she found that the lights were very real, bobbing on the horizon leagues away. Squinting, she stared off into the distance, making out the figures as best as she could. Even with her inhuman senses she could only see so far.

They were moving ever closer and as Aziza stared her eyes suddenly widened. If she had a beating heart it would have exploded in her chest in a mixture of fear and excitement.

There were soldiers coming.

* * *

Titus had barely been asleep for five minutes before he was jerked up. Blinking his eyes he attempted to swim through the grogginess then looked up to find Aziza standing above him, a panicked look covering her face.

"What? What is it?" he sat up quickly. He had never seen her look quite so flustered before it worried him. Something was very wrong.

"We must go. Now." She said, then began to fly around the home, grabbing all of their things. Yanking Titus up by his arm he watched as he flew so fast he could see nothing but a blur until she started up to the door, looking down at him.

"What is happening? Has something happened?" Titus asked again.

Without answering she gave a long whistle then glanced back at him.

"There are soldiers coming. We must depart now if we are to get away from them and find a place to hide." Aziza said. After several seconds the horse came bounding over and she grabbed their backs, loading up the animal then hoisting herself on and extending a hand to Titus. "Come!" she exclaimed.

"Why? Why run? Why not stay and fight?" he heard himself say. She was always running. If they fought there would be no one to run from. She could dispatch of all of them easily, and Titus had not been granted the opportunity to prove his worth.

At this she glanced down with him, eyes burning and her face suddenly tense.

"I will _not _spill the blood of the innocent!" she exclaimed.

"They are not innocent, they are coming to slit our throats and spread our entrails on the ground for all to see! We could get rid of them easily!"

In that moment Titus almost shrunk back from her glare which was so fierce he was afraid he might melt into the dirt below. Her arched eyebrows slanted downward, her teeth bared in a mighty sneer.

"I will beckon you one last time for I have no moments for foolishness. You will either get on this horse and ride with me or you will do as you see fit. I will not engage in meaningless and preventable violence with these people, and I beg that you do not. I will not bring harm to humans without just cause, now are you ready to leave?" Aziza growled.

It was the ultimatum that made him all the more stubborn and as Titus looked up he felt his very manhood challenged. How dare she tell him what to do and forbid him to act like a child! Puffing up his chest he stared up at her insolently then turned his back. Reaching into one of the saddlebags he grabbed a sheathed dagger then stepped back.

"Then you have your answer. I Titus son of Menelus do not run from battle with my tail tucked between my legs." Titus said firmly, both bloodlust and pride overpowering every though. She could not leave him. She never would leave him to face danger.

These were just his thoughts as she flicked the reins harshly then galloped off into the darkness, leaving Titus alone to face the oncoming horde.

This would be his first true test of battle. The sky ahead was dark, horses hooves pounding and slamming in the dirt. As the party grew closer the ground shook with the downtrods of many hooves and Titus counted them. Nine in all, a small party all fine in armor brandishing the shields and robes of Sparta.

His heart sank slightly but he clutched his dagger tightly, even as the party circled him on their horses blocking him in, all men fierce and strong brandishing spears and glaring down at him from tall horses.

"You, boy! Escaped prisoner of the Spartan King Nabis. We have come to escort you back to the kingdom where you will answer for both the crimes of escaping and spying. You are also charged with kidnapping the princess. Where is she?" one of the men announced harshly and Titus glanced up at him, heart beating fast in his chest. He could not take all of them, but he could try and die an honorable death.

"I do not know of the princess you speak of. I escaped alone, and I will not go anywhere with you without first spilling your blood."

At this the rest of the soldiers murmured, some growling and others grinning in disbelief. Their leader simply glanced down at Titus then spoke, his face impassable.

"Do not be stupid boy. If you come quietly I may see to it that you live out your days in prison instead of killing you for all to see. Keep your mouth shut and drop your weapon, and tell us where the princess is. You could not have escaped without her help."

"I will not drop my weapon! You will have to fight me to the death!" Titus exclaimed defiantly, making no mention of Aziza. Above him, the soldier sighed.

"Very well them. You all, take the boy. I will go off in search of the princess."

He began to ride away and the circle closed in on Titus, pointing their spears down. Crouching low to the ground he remained just out of reach forcing several soldiers to dismount so that they could make for him. Clutching his dagger tightly Titus prepared for his death just as a great horse leapt over his head and into the circle, a woman atop with flowing dark hair.

* * *

"Do not hurt him!" Aziza screamed as she sat atop her horse, looking down at the soldiers who surrounded Titus. Immediately some of them took a step backward while others clutched their spears.

Behind her galloped their leader, looking on in amusement.

"Princess Aziza, by order of King Nabis you are to the return and resume your marriage to his son. Any involvement in your kidnapping will be pardoned so long as you pledge fealty and everlasting allegiance, and come quietly."

"I will tell you now that I will not come quietly. We are leaving, this boy Godric and I. Any who attempt to hurt him will be subject to my wrath which I assure you is quite great. Now go, return. Tell my father I am no longer his to serve, and tell Nabis I therefor gift my sister, younger and more fair than me. She will serve better than I can."

"I cannot do that Princess, and you know that. Soldiers, take the boy!" he exclaimed.

One move was all it took before Aziza flew to the ground, grabbing one of the hulking Spartan men and holding him in front of her threateningly, her fangs just a breath away from his neck. Beneath her he shuddered in both fear and surprise and the entire guard stopped where they stood.

"Take another step and I will kill him. Lay down your arms." She commanded.

They all glanced at their commander who said nothing. Aziza knew it was futile. A Spartan's duty was to die in battle, full of honor. Sacrificing one of their own would be nothing. Much to her surprise, however, the men laid down their arms and took a step back leaving only Titus who looked like a small child in front of them all.

For a moment it seemed all would work out, until Titus spun around and sent his dagger for the abdomen of one of the soldier's nearest him.

"NO!" Aziza screamed but she was too late. The man collapsed to the ground and Titus whirled around, beginning his assault on the rest in such fashion that it stunned her. He moved with swift speed and swung his blade with skull, even for the best fighters in the land. Behind her, the captain sent a spear for him which she jumped out and caught then sent back in his direction before he could move.

It struck him in the neck and he fell off his horse with a dead thud, blood spurting from the wound as het let out a sickeningly gurgle. Turning back to the fight Aziza whirled around, making for Titus' assailants and dispatching of two of the soldiers, tossing them back several yards before they could react.

Titus dodged the blows of his attackers, ducking and weaving in and out as Aziza flew past the outside of the circle, taking men and throwing them about so that when they fell they were knocked out cold. Finally only two remained, one who turned to face Aziza. Grabbing him she held him by the neck just as he drove his spear through her belly.

She gasped and lost control, grabbing him by his head and snapping his neck viciously. Grabbing the spear she slowly pulled it from herself, watching the dark blood then tossed the thing onto the ground. Beside her Titus was still fighting with a man twice his size whom Aziza grabbed from behind and threw before he could do too much damage.

Walking to the captain she took a bite of her arm despite the wound on her belly and let some of her blood drip into his mouth. Yanking the spear from his neck she nursed him back to considerable health until he groaned, tearing away from her mouth as she sat above him feeling incredibly weak.

"Several of your men are still alive. Collect them, and return to your home. I will not return." She whispered quietly into his ear and he nodded. Walking to the dead body of the man with the broken neck she pierced his skin and began to drink until she felt the skin around her navel tighten as her body repaired itself. Lapping up his blood she then turned to Titus who stood with an insolent grin on his face, looking around at all the carnage.

"You came back." He said.

In all her anger she did not know what drove her to do it, all she knew was that she could not stop herself. Storming over Aziza lifted her hand before striking him across the face so hard that it sent him to the ground. He fell down, cursing her angrily and she fought the urge to both kick and spit at him for all the trouble he had just caused her. There was now blood on her hands, and she was an official enemy of the king.

Walking over to the horse she clutched the reins tightly in her hand then spoke to Titus without even bothering to look at him she was so furious.

"I will give you but two choices. You can get on this horse and follow me to Cairo where you will be safe from the wrath you have inflicted, or you can send the horse off. It will find its way to me. I will not return this time. You have made a large error, you have made enemies with the kingdom of Sparta, and you have been more stupid than I could have ever imagined. Make your choice but know, if you follow me it will be the last time you kill and the last time I will clean up your mess. The choice is yours." She hissed before taking off into the night, cursing the boy to high heaven.


	9. Samuel I: There Was a Certain Man

**A/N: I DO NOT own **_**True Blood**_**. This chapter has been rewritten a bit longer, though still remains short for the onset of the next.**

**Samuel I**

_**There was a certain man from Ramathaim…**_

Titus stood frozen in his spot, watching as Aziza rode off into the night, hair flying behind her along with a cloud of dust that only made her fury more pronounced.

Swallowing, he looked to the empty space around him, gazing upon the blood-stained ground as blood pounded in his ears. Clutching his fists tightly, he glanced down at the ground then once more looked into the distance, Aziza's horse becoming smaller in the distance.

She had asked him to choose, something he found himself completely unable to do. In their short time together he had found himself enjoying her company, seeking her affections, wanting nothing more than to spend further time with her. But never did he think such a situation would arise between the two, particularly so early in their journey.

Titus had the utmost respect for Aziza, but he could not help but feel anger at her logic, her under appreciation for her gifts. And now? She was asking him to choose between battle, something his entire life would own up to, and her.

He knew his decision before he even thought it: of course he would choose battle. He may have been a man in years, but he still had yet to prove his worth. He needed to become a champion on the battlefield as his father had; he needed to own up to the legacy set for him.

There was no choice. Titus knew however, there was no way she would leave him alone. She would come back. She was too humane to leave him alone to die, or let others suffer.

That is what he continued to assure himself as he watched her disappear, and a larger group emerge on the horizon, pounding towards him so furiously the very ground quaked under the hooves of their steeds.

He knew her plan was to hear him cry for forgiveness, then swoop back, and no matter how Titus felt, he refused to succumb to her plan. He was going to do what he set out to do all those days ago. He was going to go to war, he was going to slay and let blood taint his skin.

He was going to become a man, then and there.

Pulling the rusted dagger from his tunic he crouched down, brandishing it tightly as he waited for what would surely be his death, focusing only on killing as many as he could so that his name would be known.

Titus, the boy who had been taken prisoner by Spartans, escaped with a blood-drinkers, and single-handedly slain 12 men before dying with a curse on his lips.

No, not Titus, he would be known by a more formidable name:

Godric.

* * *

Aziza watched from a distance as a large party of soldiers rode past her, commanded by a large man brandishing a brass spear who pointed it forth and cried out.

In the darkness, she could be seen if she wished, and unseen if she liked. Even on the back of a creature which could not match her speed on foot, she still possessed the ability to remain undetected and more agile than her male counterparts, who had ridden right past her and taken no note of the horse she bore in the moonlight.

Peering across the valley she picked out Titus' small form, watching as he crouched down with a knife glinting in his hand. She knew the soldiers could not even see him yet. She also knew that his damned pride could cost him his life.

She had not been bluffing entirely. She had no plans to continue their alliance if he would display such willful and irresponsible behavior. But she had not counted on him going his own way so quickly, without giving second thought to what it would mean for him.

She was certain he would give in and call out for her, acting with attitude for several days until forgetting the whole thing and finally—begrudgingly—accepting it. But it seemed that was not going to happen in Titus' idiotic and stubborn mind. He was going to get himself killed foolishly, despite Aziza's efforts up until that point to keep him alive.

She had broken him out of the prison, helped him escape soldiers, protected him, fed him. She had _invested _in his life, far too much for him to die. Her blood was inside of him, his was inside hers. They were bonded in such a way that surpassed the most intimate relations of human beings. It was stronger than lovers, stronger than mother and child, stronger than siblings. She was inside of him, and he was inside of her.

And that bond only further heightened the distress she felt as the soldiers neared him. She could feel his body, the blossoming danger. He was afraid, excited, blood rushing through his small frame. But she knew there was no way he would survive, elsewise she would not feel so uneasy.

"Damn you boy." She cursed in her native tongue, heart heavy before dismounting the horse. She could not risk losing a good animal when she did what she was about it.

Pulling off her cloak Aziza placed it upon the horse then grabbed her sword, placing it in its hilt around her hips.

"Stay here." She whispered to the animal carefully, then turned towards the scene unfolding before her, feeling Titus' heartbeat spike immensely.

Within taking several steps into a sprint she fell to the ground, the pain more crippling than ever. It was a forceful lunge, as though her body was trying to transport her into the vision only to ricochet off some invisible boundary and onto the ground below.

The voices arrived before the vision, the very air around her spinning as the seen changed, as realistic as though it was right before her.

"_You know, you boys have an uncanny habit of making me look like the bad one." Aziza smiled, peeling off her robe and letting it fall to the ground haphazardly as she stood nude in the firelight, smirking coyly at the two men standing on the other side of the room. _

_Sitting down onto the bed she came to rest on her side, posing seductively as she cross her legs like an exotic sphinx._

_Godric and Eric stood before her, both soaked in the blood of the girl. Aziza silently rejoiced in the notion that they had taken no mercy on her. Her betrayal served them right for trusting a human, and her fate was well deserved. _

"_Well if I can recall correctly, it was you that preached to me sermons of mercy and grace in the beginning." Godric smiled, and Aziza eyed him carefully._

"_Hundreds of years in the past darling, we've evolved. Now, are you both going to stand there or are you going to join me? I'm just dying to…taste you."_

_Godric flew to the bed, leaning over her frame then leaned down and ravaged her with his mouth, kissing her sadistically and passionately, drawing blood as his fangs emerged and causing her own to do so. _

"_Come Eric, join us." She spoke to the younger vampire and he stood hesitantly, before walking over slowly and climbing into the bed with the both of them, watching and waiting carefully on the edge of the bed as Godric busied himself with her neck, caressing the flesh with his mouth and fangs. _

"_You have much to learn about the ways of a vampire, and even more than Godric here himself has to learn. But the first and foremost is even a woman of unmentionable power…longs to be a slave." She hissed as Godric pinned her to the bed, lifting her arms above her head and sinking his teeth into her neck. _

_Spreading her legs she keened in pleasure, turning to look at the progeny of her progeny. _

_He remained where he sat, looking seemingly uncomfortable for one of his reputation. Eyeing him seductively, she looked up at the ceiling, Godric's tongue lapping up her blood ferociously and causing her to moan as he gripped her arms so tightly they bruised beneath the pressure._

_She had found her pleasure in his brutality, her escape in the pain he so readily doled out. She could tell he resented her for being stronger, older, and more cunning than him, but more than anything deep down, no matter how much he claimed to love his life for hundreds of years he hated her for making him what he was, and it was during that time he took out his anger on her body._

Two streaks of blood tears rolled down Aziza's cheeks, whether from the pain of her vision or the vision itself, she could not tell.

But she remained, frozen in her spot as fear flooded her.

It had been once so far, only once. Once in the short span of years since she had come to grace the world of death had it happened. The vision which she had seen occurred several months later, leaving her to believe that they were not necessarily visions, but perhaps windows into the future.

And in the windows, she so often saw him, she had even before she met him. But now, Aziza realized, he could only be with her for an eternity if he could _live_ an eternity.

They were lovers in her visions, but this was the first time she had hear the word "progeny" used, and she could only assume what it meant: it would be her, she would be the one to make him.

It would be that very night. His mortality would wane under his own decision, leaving her no choice. Either way it seemed, it was inevitable.

But first, she needed to save him.

* * *

Titus collapsed onto his back, a sharp pain erupting across his belly each time he exhaled where the spear had pierced him.

He knew the wound was deep. He could tell by the way the very life left him with each strained exhale, blood pooling down his belly. As he tried to take in a breath, he was met with a gurgle of blood which sputtered from his throat and fell on his limps in clumped clots.

Next to him, a pained moan. Moving his eyes as his broken neck continued to making each breath more complicated, Titus observed the dying man next to him, he could sense farther along to the new life than he was.

His throat was slit, blood spilling out now faintly instead of the gushing spurts which had exploded with Titus first dragged the knife across his flesh.

He was surrounded by bodies. Four of them to be exact, not as many as he would have longed to take out, but a good number for a boy of his size equipped with nothing but his own dagger and the spear he had looted from the first body.

For the first time in his life, Titus felt truly connected to another being: the people around him. He felt a part of the men who lay dead and dying, as much a part of he was Aziza.

Aziza. The very thought of her caused his slowing heart to skip a beat. She had left him to die, and he both respected and hated her for it. She had kept her word, and a part of him felt his death would make her stronger. She would let no one stand in the way of her beliefs, even if it meant sacrificing them. Though still, it meant the demise of his short time on Earth.

He could not blame her. After all, she had given him the choice, and he had died a warriors death, stained in both blood and glory.

"The princess is nowhere in sight, she must have left him. I'm sure we can catch her by dawn." A raspy voice said above him.

"She is long gone Axinos, searching for her is futile. Nabis will have to accept his boy marrying the sister. I would not like to deal with the likes of her kind. Besides, we got the prisoner." Another voice spoke, one Titus recognized as the leader of the party.

"He was strong. Never would have thought it from his stature."

"A thorn in our side. He is still breathing, let him suffer. The scum of the earth deserve nothing better, especially when he took out four of my good men. Men, we ride north!"

Suddenly, a horse whinnied loudly and Titus heard a commotion. Several shouts tore into the night and he became weaker, his vision becoming darker.

And then, everything was silent. Silent as the end.

"You fool!"

He opened his eyes to find her bending over him looking more terrifying than he could imagine, eyes and face stained with blood that was both her own and the soldiers'.

"A-A…" he began, the word falling from his lips before he could finish it. Closing his eyes, Titus succumbed to the darkness falling over him, ready to meet The Gods.

* * *

"DAMN!" Aziza swore, biting into her arm and letting the blood spill into Titus' mouth. Bringing her hand to his broken neck she felt the faintest trace of a pulse, slowly dissipating..

She waited for the blood to heal him, continuously feeding him but it was not enough. His injuries were too grave, and he was not coming back to her.

Kneeling on the grass Aziza looked up to the heavens, asking God for help. She could not let the boy die, no part of her could sustain it, and it did not seem to be God's will.

He was clinging to life, but his life was waning. Aziza could not go the journey alone, and she knew she could not change the future. Clutching his wrist, she gazed into his closed eyes then grimaced.

To save him, she would have to condemn him.

She was going to make him a demon.


	10. Samuel II: Now it Came to Pass

**A/N: I DO NOT own **_**True Blood. **_**Decided for the sake of continuity and my sanity to take the old chapters down as I rewrite. I can't explain how much they were bothering me, so for old readers these will basically be vaguely familiar, but new. For new, you get the absolute first-experience. **

**Samuel II**

_**Now it came to pass…**_

"_Now, I can promise you you'll have everything you need to your convenience during your stay at the White House. I'm really glad to have an American vampire representative with us right in in Washington. Just how many of you are out there?"_

"_More than you know Mr. President." Aziza smiled, comfortable to be using her old name again for the first time around someone other than Godric. _

"_Wow. Never would have thought it. That mean werewolves are real too?" he joked, and Aziza simply stared at him blankly as Mrs. Kennedy cleared her throat, silently reprimanding her husband. _

"_Sorry. Didn't mean to be offensive." He apologized. _

"_It's fine, none taken. I must say again, thank you for welcoming us into your home. I must say Mrs. Kennedy, I've always been a huge fan."_

"_Well thank you. If you'll excuse me, I need to check on the kids." She said coldly, giving a small head nod then departing. Glancing after her, Aziza watched as she departed with all the elegance and grace one women could muster. Even though her resentment was clear, Aziza still admired her. Jackie Kennedy, the woman who held more sway than she herself ever could. _

"_You'll have to forgive my wife. She's a little…uncomfortable with the idea."_

"_I can't say I blame her, though I can assure you Mr. President at my age you learn to control yourself." Aziza smiled, her eyes drawn to his handsome smile which certainly lived up to the legend._

"_Call me John. And at your age? You don't look a day over 20."_

"_Well a lady never reveals her age. You can show me to our quarters if you like, I know it's late for you."_

"_Not a problem. Why don't you let me give you a tour? It's not every day you get to sleep at the White House."_

Aziza gasped, dirt flooding her mouth as her eyes shot open, faced with nothing but darkness.

The body beside her stirred and immediately she dove for the surface, clawing her way out of the dirt which covered her body and made its way into her mouth, nose, and ears. Though she did not need to breath, still the feeling of being suffocated was almost enough to make her panic. As she pawed her way through the heavy earth, Aziza finally outstretched an arm and felt the cold night wind on her skin.

Clutching the finely seeded ground, Aziza planted her hands firmly then pulled herself into the night, blinking away the dirt and jitters that had come with spending more than one night at ground. Wiping her face, she sat then paused, glancing down at the second patch of dirt right beside the hole she had just burst from, which moved slowly.

Staring at the mound she blinked rapidly, mouth slightly agape as she accepted the breezy air, brought forth by a promised and brutal cold season. As the ground continued to move, she stood, staring up at the sky.

There was no time now for regrets. She had the entire time underground to do that. Now, she was forced to finally come to terms with her choice to turn the boy into the very thing she had hoped to keep him safe from: himself.

She knew he would be ruthless, difficult, perhaps even impossible to control. She could not say what led her to such desperation that she could not bear to part with him. After all, he was a human boy. She had to expect to lose him at some time or another.

But she could not part with him. She could not allow him to perish at the hands of the soldiers, and now, here he was to wreak havoc in a way that would make Baharah cringe. He would be reckless, irresponsible, and violent. The violence was what concerned Aziza the most, knowing she would never be able to stop him.

He had a thirst for blood as a human, meaning now it would be tenfold, nihilistic, and remorseless. He would become a killing machine with no regard for humanity, and Aziza alone was at fault. She would be blamed for the deaths of innocent human beings, brought to their end by the boy who lay beneath her.

As Titus struggled to break free, he seemed so helpless. Like a baby bird, attempting to push itself from the hard and delicate shell of its egg. It would remain vulnerable in its first few months of life, depending on its mother and in a way, Titus would as well. While newborns were stronger, they were also more susceptible to getting themselves killed.

Aziza was still in her childhood was a blood-drinker, not even yet clearing a decade. She knew there were many in the world, centuries old. Some of them dwelled in Cairo on the council she wished to appear before, asking pardon for the war she had started with Sparta.

So many were lost before their first year. Perhaps meeting the sun after chancing it too close as dawn broke. Or revealing themselves to humans, only to find themselves overpowered. And still there were those who starved, believing they could feed on animal blood, refusing to kill.

She herself did not know or understand everything. She needed to get to Cairo, and quickly. It would certainly be a more swift travel now that Titus could fly as quickly as she could. The trial would be getting them there without incident, something rare for a newborn, even she herself.

In her first days she had been as violent and brutal as anyone, sticking close to her maker as they prowled the countryside, wreaking havoc and instilling fear in the hearts of the humans that lived there. Aziza was ashamed for the lives she had taken, not even needed their blood. Out of sheer pleasure she shared with Baharah, sickening and cruel pleasure.

Titus would prove more strong-willed and vicious than Baharah had ever been. Aziza knew that, for she had seen it. In the glimpses of visions that plagued her, she had seen what he would become. What they would do together.

Perhaps it was the reason she could not let him die. It was set in the stars, seemingly proclaimed by God that the two would be together, and that Aziza was to sire a progeny. Why? She did not know. What good could come of this? She could not see, and more than anything, it frightened her.

It frightened her because she knew how it would end. He would die, years and years from now and Aziza would visit the yellow-haired one named Eric who appeared frequently in her visions. She would spend centuries with him, only to someday be left alone as she feared.

She wanted to believe the future could change, but it seemed to be set in stone. Some of the things she had foreseen had come true. Others would prove the same, she was certain of it. Aziza was also certain that no matter what, the future could not be changed, and as horrific as it sounded, perhaps God meant for this to happen to her.

Finally, a pale hand broke free from the dirt, opening and closing in a clawing motion and Aziza leaned forward, unsure whether to help him or not. Baharah had given her no help, claiming it was Aziza's first test of her new nature. She had been forced to prove her worth by bursting through ground she had never been in before, surprised to find the packed earth heavier than one would have thought.

Standing carefully, she did the same for Titus, watching as he struggled, inch by inch appearing with soiled skin and frustrated grunts. Watching as his head emerged, Aziza took a step back as he let out a loud roar—almost painful sounding—and lunged, clawing at the surface as he pulled himself up weakly, not yet strong enough to push as she had done.

Stepping over, Aziza clasped one of her delicate hands on his dirtied wrist, pulling him up carefully as he fell into her arms, panting with his eyes closed.

"Are you well? How do you feel?" she asked frantically, fearful she may not have done the transformation right. What if she had done something wrong and he was to die right then and there?

_Remember, you've seen the future. He will last._ She reminded herself, the quickly began to brush the dirt off his face tenderly as he opened his eyes, staring up at the night sky.

"What has happened…" he trailed off, and Aziza quickly placed a hand on his chest, feeling his cold flesh beneath her fingers. Bringing her dirtied hand across his skin she touched him gently, feeling him faint and dead beneath her fingers, just as she was. Looking down into his eyes she shook her head in amazement at what she had done. She had really done it.

"You died. So I…" she trailed off, shaking her head and Titus sat up surprisingly quick, looking around wildly.

His hands flew to his neck and he began to seek out his wounds, finding they were certainly not there, including the tribal markings which had once adorned his pale flesh.

"You made me one…" he trailed off once more, speechless and Aziza hung her head, blood welling in her eyes.

"I'm so sorry. It was selfish, you were dying and I-I was afraid of losing you. You have to understand Titus, I-"

"Godric." He interrupted, turning to face her with wide eyes full of what Aziza could only discern as excitement.

"Godric. Call me Godric only now. You have given me a new life, a new body. Aziza you have given me this gift. I cannot find a way to thank you. You have gifted me immortality!"

Aziza blanched, a single blood tear streaking her face in shock as her guilt turned into disbelief. She had known all along how he would react, but still she was surprised. She was surprised at how he could be so blind and foolish, not realizing the shackles which now fell around his wrists and legs for the rest of his long life, the curse that would follow him.

"I must feed." He suddenly said, and Aziza clenched her jaw, looking up at the sky. She knew she should have procured something beforehand to have when he finally awoke, but she knew in his state he needed something fresh. He also needed to learn how to hunt, and how to do it properly.

Clutching his stomach, Aziza nodded, suddenly aware of the dirt caked on her clothing and body. She wished for nothing more than the chance to bathe and change, but first they needed to find his first meal.

"Yes, you must. Follow me, I will run a bit slower so you can keep up." Aziza said, then took off into the night, glad she could finally sprint once more, even if it was slower than normal.

Still adjusting to his new form, she could hear Godric's footsteps behind her, slightly clumsy as he learned to control his new body. Raising her head to the sky Aziza let the scent flood her nose, trying to find some source of food on the wind, anything, just enough for his first meal so she could begin explaining to him everything it meant.

Seeking out a human, she began to rush to the summit of a nearby hill, peering at the world below as she caught a flicker of light on the horizon.

"How far away is that? I can see it!" Godric exclaimed excitedly.

"You will see even more when you have fed. Before we go, you must promise to listen to what I say Ti-Godric. I feed only when I must, taking the blood of the sick and dying, but you are new. You must have healthy and new blood. We must be swift, and we musn't draw attention to ourselves."

"You mean I get to kill?" he asked like a small child receiving a toy. Glancing at him wearily, Aziza moved her head to the stars and silently asked for guidance, receiving none.

"I will bring you something. If we come across trouble you are not yet strong enough to face a group." Aziza said, half-truthfully. Of course she knew allowing him to accompany her would only result in chaotic disaster. She could not risk it, not when she had so much to teach him.

"What do you mean I'm not strong enough? I no longer feel weak!" he argued and she threw up a hand irritably.

"Please, just listen. Follow me, and I will tell you when to wait behind."

* * *

Godric felt blood wrap around his muscles, filling him with powerful life as he drank the blood of a virile young man, warmth seeping into his mouth and down his throat.

Clutching the boy's body he savored the feeling as the life bled from beneath him and went past Godric's newly sharpened fangs. As he gorged himself on the hot fluid his eyes rolled in the back of his head until the very essence left and the body became a corpse.

"You've had your fill. Now, I must dispose of this body."

He glanced up at Aziza as she bent down, clutching the dead body and slinging it over her shoulders with ease.

"Why?" he asked curiously, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.

"Because we must not leave a trail. Suspicious deaths bring about suspicious questions. The Spartans could still be after us, this would lead them right on our trail."

"Let them. They cannot defeat us now." He grinned, excited for his first true kill as an immortal.

"Titus..."

"-Godric." He corrected her, fully embracing the new name and identity.

"Godric. We cannot afford to be foolish. We must make for Cairo as quickly as possible so that I may repair relations with my country and that of Sparta and seek refuge for the both of us. Now, come. We can travel more swiftly now, and we have some ground to cover as we venture through the land."

Godric bit his tongue, knowing he should not argue. Not now at least. He would play the role of pet, following her around and taking orders, but as his strength gained he would find himself free of guilt when disobeying what she said. He was his own person, not hers, and now he had the power to do all that he wanted, nothing was going to stop that.

* * *

"_Godric? What's wrong?" Aziza asked as she stepped into the living room of their shabby apartment, kicking aside a copy of _Dracula _haphazardly. Glancing down at the book she paused for a moment, wondering where Stoker was to this day. Being turned probably cleared up some of the misconceptions he had written about the vampire species. _

_Staring at the television, Aziza sat beside her longtime friend and companion, glancing over at the small box. Immediately, she found herself equally enraptured by the images which ran across her screen. _

"_No…" she trailed off, and Godric grabbed her hand tightly, putting an arm around her as she watched a replay of people in the streets of Memphis, black and white, both angered and shocked. _

"_How many years has it been? They kill a person of a different color. What do you think they'd do to us if we ever stepped forth?" Godric asked, and Aziza brought a hand to her mouth. It seemed like just yesterday she was watching the same scene, in a different place, as she learned of John's death. And now yet another, a freedom-fighter lost to senseless violence. _

"_Did you ever meet him?" Godric asked, and she shook her head. While she had longed to meet the revered Dr. King, she'd never gotten the chance to meet him. After being discovered with John by the former first lady, she lost all ties to the United States government after Mrs. Kennedy threatened to expose her. _

_She'd spent some time in Vietnam with Godric and Eric, helping the locals and soldiers alike. But now, living under wraps in the city of Santa Fe she had put her days of associating with the civil rights and Vietnam movements aside. She had taken as ordinary a life as she could with Godric beside her, masquerading as June and Timothy Harmon and living modestly, free of adventure for the first time in their long lives. _

"_I wanted to but…I never got the chance."_

"_Funny how many chances we miss out on in our lives, we more than anybody else."_

_Aziza was silent for a long moment, watching the devastating news before turning back to Godric. _

"_I want to go back to Paris." She breathed, and he glanced down at her sharply. _

"_What?"_

"_Tonight. Tomorrow. Soon. I want to go back to Paris. I can't do this anymore Godric. I can't go on living this fucking lie that I'm some homemaker from Chicago. I'm sick of the looks when we go to the grocery store, I'm sick of the fucking bullshit on our TV every night. I don't want to stay somewhere where we'll get shot for being together. You keep saying it's going to get better but look. It's not. I can't stay here anymore." She shook her head and stood, crossing her arms over her chest. _

"_We can't just move again. We've only been here for a few months!"_

"_So!"_

"_So, I'm sick of always running around. Can't we just stay in one place for a while? We've spent our whole lives running."_

"_So what. You're just going to wait until someone gets it in them to burn us out? Until we have guys in white robes outside our door? Godric, don't forget. I'm _black_!"_

"_No one even knows! You're skin-"_

"_Is lighter. Yes. But dark enough for people to think I'm either Hispanic or mixed. They won't be spared any either. My green eyes fool a lot of people but not all of them."_

"_You think anyone here even notices?!"_

"_Yeah, they do. I can tell you for a fact. And what about when we were in Alabama? I had to sit outside in the car because they wouldn't let me-"_

"_Okay that was different. And it was one place. So what, you want to leave the country because people are assholes?"_

"_No, I want to leave the country because I don't want to stay somewhere I'm ostracized for my race! Don't you think we have it bad enough? You said it yourself! Anyone finds out we're vampires and we're dead! I can't live around this anymore!"_

"_Well I don't want to go."_

_Aziza opened her mouth, Godric's words sinking in. He had said them calmly, quietly, in a way that told her there was no argument. It also told her that once again, they would find themselves parting ways, and as they had grown accustomed to, there would be no argument. _

"_Fine. I'll go stay with Eric and Pam in Paris. You know, after all these years, I always think I'm sure you love me. But I can never really figure it out…"_

"Unh." Aziza choked, squeezing her eyes shut as blood seeped from them. Swaying on her horse dangerously she felt Titus clutch her waist tightly as she leaned over, falling from the horse and collapsing to the ground. As her head seared with pain she clutched the frosty blades of grass, rocking slightly as she was certain she was on the verge of death. Pain exploded through every facet of her body until she found herself unable to move as Titus' voice called her name was seemed leagues away.

For the first time, she found herself grateful that she had made him as he bent forth and picked her up effortlessly, clutching her in his arms. Placing her on the horse, he leaned down as she reached out silently for the only person she could think of.

She knew they could be going straight to their death. She knew Baharah would have no mercy. But right now, Aziza knew of nowhere else to go. Cairo was leagues away, and it would be dangerous if she found herself incapacitated in the middle of nowhere. Particularly for the newborn Godric, who still needed to learn many things integral to his survival.

Quietly, she called out to the one person she never wished to see again. She could think of nothing else, no other option than to go running back to the person she had hoped to dispel from her life forever. Baharah would take Aziza's troubles smugly, making it all the more obvious that the young-blood drinker couldn't last without her. And Aziza would be forced to accept it, likely bringing Baharah along with them to Cairo.

The only good that came of the situation was that she could no longer feed on Titus. He was Godric now, no longer human, and no longer in need of as much protection. It came with a price however, the very thought of Baharah letting her ideas get into his fresh mind. She alone would create a monster the world had not yet seen.

"Take me…to Baharah. She will be waiting for me." Aziza whispered, paying no mind to Godric's protests as he pulled the reigns and they changed directions, heading back and retracing their steps. Still she felt no contact from her maker and wondered momentarily if she really had accepted Aziza's decision to leave forever. Her threat for them never return would perhaps go fulfilled for once.

And then, just as she finally gave up hope a small probe entered her mind and she relaxed, closing her eyes and relinquishing her body once more as she rode towards her saving grace.

* * *

Godric stood up quickly, his small frame as guard as Baharah entered the room from the cellar where Aziza slumbered.

"Do not worry I will not kill you. There is not a point now, is there?" the Persian woman raised an eyebrow, her tone full of bitter resentment. Staring at Godric wearily, he remained where he stood as she let out a chortle then strode across the room, coming to rest at a small table in the corner.

Face illuminated by candlelight he no longer needed, she beckoned for him to sit on the small stool across from her. Carefully, Godric did so, leaning towards the cellar so that in the event the woman sprang, he might have some chance of rescuing Aziza.

"I knew she had something planned for you. The…_infatuation_, had to have some merit. I could not see what would interest her so in a scrawny human like you. But, that question is out of our hands now, I suppose. I will admit, she could have done better."

Godric clenched his jaw, repeating his new name over and over in his head silently as a mantra.

"I will attribute your insult to jealousy. It always hurts to come in second best." He shot, not bothering to think before he spoke and found himself momentarily frightened as her beautiful pale face contorted into a monstrous snarl, fangs emerging.

"You would do best to watch your tongue little one. Especially when your darling princess is not here to protect you. You are in my good company at the moment."

"What ails her?" Godric asked, swiftly changing the subject. He could not help but notice the ghost of a smirk that crossed Baharah's lips with his defeat, and finally understood why Aziza loathed her so.

"Something which affects her, and only her. We do not suffer from physical ailments, meaning her case is unique."

"Is it because the visions?"

Baharah stared at Titus, standing up with an audible sigh.

"_Visions_. The ramblings of a fool they are. Aziza dares to dream, so much that she fills her head with silly thoughts of an impossible future. She would go on about how in thousands of years the humans would have tall buildings made of steel, and contraptions that could make people fly. It is all folly. Such that she had become obsessed with it."

Godric remained silent, taking a moment to think over Baharah's words, wondering if they were true. Whenever Aziza fell ill, cringing and clutching her head with pain she claimed to be having vision of the future where she saw the things Baharah had described. But was that really true? Or were they sickly delusions that were ravishing her mind?

"How do you know? How do you know her visions are untrue?"

"Because it is impossible child!" Baharah snapped.

_Impossible. Like us. _Godric thought then dropped the matter, preparing to mull it over later. For now, he had two hours to busy himself before the sunrise, or so Aziza had told him as they arrived, weakly pleading for him to return to the cellar with her before the sky illuminated.

It never quite occurred to Godric that he would never see the sun again. Aziza said a cloudy day was not enough. He would never feel the light on his face, or gaze across the lit lands. He was now a creature of night who would never feel warmth, only cold.

"You said when we left that we were never to return." Godric said after a pregnant pause, and this time emotion flooded Baharah's face immensely, making her appear more human than anything he had ever witnessed. Her cold façade was gone, replaced with one of longing and sadness.

"That is none of your concern." She barked.

"It is because you love her. Not because you made her."

"Yes, and I suppose you take glory in that, correct? You are proud to have taken her from my grasp. Me, to whom she owes everything!" she growled, fangs emerging violently and Godric took a step back.

"No! I never took her from you!" he exclaimed, and she shook her head, tossing her hair back willfully.

"You filled her mind with romantic ideas. Promises of human _love _and _companionship_. She wanted to be taken tenderly and you obliged her girlish fantasies. But she belonged with me. As equals. What could a human do for her as opposed to me?"

"Perhaps she wished to make a change." Godric replied boldly, becoming irritated and angry once more.

"No, why should she? To be with a boy? Men do not know how to please a woman. You cannot control her body because you do not understand it. And a human cannot bite her, dominate her. She does not need to be coddled, she needs to be taken!"

"But I am no longer human, and it was she who made me that way. Aziza came to me. She picked _me_, to begin all of this. A slave boy with no parents and no home. She does not want you, and never again will she."

Baharah opened her mouth, tilting her head to the side then looked down, a curtain of black hair falling in front of her long face. Finally, she shook it out of her face and stared at Godric directly.

"Someday, you will pay for your words. But tomorrow eve you will see, the error of your mouth. You will know that in her heart, she will always long for me. And when she and I are together, you will pay the price. Enjoy the time you have as a newborn Godric, for soon enough, you and I will come together and you will face your death, just as any human."

With that, she left the room, flying into the night ad Godric remained where he stood, not knowing exactly what to think.


	11. Kings I: Now King David was old

**A/N: I DO NOT own **_**True Blood**_**, or any of the works mentioned in this chapter. To all new followers of this story welcome!**

**Kings I**

_**Now King David was old and stricken in years…**_

Godric watched Aziza quietly, observing as she twitched, mouth moving slightly as her eyes shifted wildly beneath closed lids. Thick lashes pushed together her eyebrows knitted in the most human of ways, creating the appearance of stress that Godric found immeasurably intriguing. After all, she was inhuman but the expression itself cast to light the minute flaws within their race: the previous life which continued to plague them.

No matter their newfound power and immortality, the past continued to haunt fervently. Even for Godric himself. So many times he repeated the mantra, convincing himself that Titus was now his past. But no matter how many times he reminded himself that he was Godric, a slave boy from Greece, the young Macedonian who was once the son of a warrior managed to push through and he remembered who he was.

Reaching forward, Godric brushed a strand of Aziza's hair from her fair face as she continued to mumble, her face contorted in the pain from one of her unspoken visions which never ceased to perplex him. She claimed they were windows into a future told, though Godric was uncertain such stories could be permanently written in the stars. After all, was fate not subjective? Could he himself not make a last minute decision and alter the course of his life entirely?

She claimed to have foreseen him by the name of Godric, and he would become a blood-drinker. So far those predictions had come to be true. But what of the things that had not come to pass? Aziza believed the two were destined to cross the ages together and apart. Was the path truly set, or could a new fork emerge?

"Be still my princess." He whispered, stroking her fore head as she turned her neck wildly. Gritting her teeth blood tears streaked from the corners of her eyes and she gasped, her eyes suddenly snapping open as she screamed loudly and clenched her fists, shaking furiously on the ground.

Resting atop a wolf skin rug Godric continued to soothe her, stroking the edge of her face gently and blessing her with gentle words he never foresaw himself saying to a woman. Slowly, her eyes turned to meet his own and she whimpered, closing them as she shook her head and brought a hand to her eyes.

"I am sorry. The pain…has grown much worse."

"Do not apologize to me." He replied simply, then bent down and let his lips brush her brow. To his moderate surprise, she reached up and let her own graze his jawline and Godric breathed her in, feeling her body beneath his own as he wondered what it had felt like when she was alive. Still, she was soft and tender despite the coldness of her body and she let a hand come to rest on the back of his head as they both quietly welcomed the night in the underground of Baharah's home.

The fierce Persian woman was nowhere to be found, presumed hunting by Aziza who steadied herself pouring over maps and occasionally letting Godric into her plans. She still attempted to accustom herself to using his new name, correcting herself each time he spoke and he couldn't help smile, knowing that someday she and only she would know his true name and that created a special bond between the two of them, even more than that he now was truly hers.

Even in the full day since his new life began, he could not believe the direction which the fates had led him. Long had he dreamed the dream of invincibility, to be a demi-god and roam the earth as a servant of Ares. He would ride amongst the largest and most supreme of men and his name would be renowned, for his impressive strength and malice upon the battlefield despite his size and statute.

And Aziza would be his maiden, strong and powerful in all her beauty just as Hera herself. As he inhaled her he was reminded once more of her intolerable beauty, so much that it was sometimes painful to look at her. With her buttery brown skin of the south and piercing green eyes she was a treasure amongst gods and men alike, and he still could not help but wonder if perhaps that was the explanation for her existence.

He knew he would look foolish beside her, the small scraggly boy who attempted to stand tall next a queen. Even Baharah in her wolfish features still maintained a startling beauty which Godric would associate with being a blood-drinker. He knew he was handsome by the standards of women his own age, though he could not say he was now as fair as the two women and the only other blood-drinkers he knew.

"You're beauty is immeasurable." He whispered aloud, maintaining his thoughts verbally and Aziza let out a very human sigh beneath him, stroking the back of his neck lovingly as she tilted her head up to meet his lips. All of the harshness and anger which had followed her in his newfound death and life seemed to melt away with the soft kiss that once against stumped and bewildered him. In her personality Aziza was always so fierce and domineering, though there were times like this where she seemed nothing more than an innocent girl longing for the acceptance and love of a man.

Her kiss was as soft as a whisper, full lips just barely touching his own and Godric leaned down for more, taking her mouth in his own and letting a hand come beneath her head as he cradled her, fingers ensnared in her long dark hair. Still he had yet to have her, and now seemed like the perfect time. There was no longer anything to stop them, no threat of safety and no growing threat of danger. After what seemed an eternity in the age of men, Godric found himself abandoning thoughts of chivalry with the consumption of passion which drove him into Aziza's mouth.

His tongue ventured between her lips and she accepted him, opening her mouth as her fangs extended. For the first time, the noise did not startled him and the realization that she had become so quickly aroused caused his to pop as well, eliciting a shudder from his small body. An unfounded heat for a dead man pooled in his groin, slowly hardening him and Godric could not stop himself from chuckling into Aziza's mouth at the discovery.

"I thought it might be more amusing should you discover it for yourself." Aziza responded, seemingly knowing what he was reacting to and he shut her mouth with another kiss, letting his body come to rest atop her own.

"I will have you now." He whispered, and Aziza pressed her body against his own as though silently urging him to take her. Pulling himself from her, Godric found himself facing the unwavering desire to taste Aziza. Finally, he could take her as he had longed to and it appeared she would not say no.

Moving to her neck Godric let his fangs pierce Aziza's skin and she cried out, arching her back beneath him. Pressing her large breasts against him she spread her legs, silently offering herself and Titus obliged as she moaned into his ear. Tasting her blood he licked his lips, marking her as his own then moved down and placed his hands on her thighs. Grabbing the bottom of her dress, Godric pulled it above her knees.

The sheer black frock was an elegant draping robe provided by Baharah which suited the role of princess well. It was the dress of Egyptian queens who lazed about all day in their beauty and wealth, seducing princes and living amongst mere women in their beauty.

All she missed were the sensuous oils to adorn her skin and mystical jewels that dazzled and glinted beneath the sunlight. Glancing up, Godric noted the way Aziza's nipples peaked against the fabric of the dress, hardened in excitement and lifted his nose as he smelled her signature scent. It was an aroma he never would have picked up before as a mere human but now, the sweet nectar between her legs as she grew wet pierced his nostrils and sent a sharp throb into his loins at the thought of letting his tongue wander within her folds.

Pushing the dress back further Aziza spread her legs for him eagerly and Godric found himself staring into her core, swallowing as fire burned inside him at the sight. Leaning forward, he got down on his elbows and grasped her slim thighs before plunging into her depths with his tongue, prying at her swollen lips. Easily he found the small pearl nestled at the tip of her apex and flicked his tongue at the swollen nub, feeling Aziza buck around him.

He felt her grow wet and penetrated her with his tongue, spreading her further and feeling her vibrate around him. Suddenly, a sound pricked his ears and Aziza sat up, pushing Godric back as the familiar scent of Baharah shrouded the room.

"And what do we have here?" the Persian woman mused and Godric wiped his mouth, glaring at her for interrupting their ménage. Quickly, Aziza sat up and straightened her dress, pushing hair out of her face and looking away from Baharah with obvious embarrassment.

"I think we both know he will never quite be able to pleasure you like I can. I just love the way your body shudders before you reach your climax. Tell me boy, have you felt her tense around you yet?"

Godric prepared to feel his ears burn before remembering any blood left in his body was slowly departing as he became flaccid. Looking away from Baharah he could not help but feel wounded at the way Aziza refused to look up at the Persian woman, almost like a scorned lover. Once more he had to wonder just who she belonged to and what his place was between the two women.

"Your comments have no place here. Is there something you need? I thought you were off hunting." Aziza finally said and Baharah chuckled, leaning against the door and putting a long arm up as her slender body rested against the frame.

"It is my home after all and I may come and go as I please. Your pathetic attempts to woo my princess make no difference."

Godric bared his fangs, hissing instinctively like one of the alley cats he had seen in the agora and Baharah responded in kind, tossing back her long dark plaited hair before turning her attention to Aziza who strode across the room in her bare feet. Sitting down in the corner she bent down over several maps once more, studying them beneath the candlelight as Godric sighed in frustration, wondering if he would ever have her.

"Maps, maps, and more maps. Searching for something that was not there a moment ago? I know you Aziza and you will only frustrate yourself into giving up. What is it you are looking for anyhow?" Baharah asked and Godric silently agreed with her, as she let no one into her plans.

"A covert route of travel. We must avoid any place under control of Rome or its allies."

"Still silly plans to leave me I see. And what, you will travel with a newborn to Cairo with no incident? Stay here, with me. I will even let you keep your little pet, he may actually be of use to us now. I know sometimes you yearn for the touch of a man, I suppose I can understand it. The three of us could stay here for our days. Why leave?"

"Because this is bigger than any of us Baharah. I have soured diplomatic relations between two powerful countries. For all I know they could be on the verge of war. I need to go to Cairo and right this wrong, and find advice on how to further deal with myself."

"And how exactly will you right it? Getting council from yet another boy-king who will off and marry his sister then die only to be replaced by a new one? The lands give Egypt so much power when they are nothing but incestuous fools who worship animals. I have been here a lot longer than you have if you do not remember and I have seen a very many changes in Egypt. Or shall I say very few. The country is unstable, and in no way to be the seat of the southern world."

"Well, criticize all you like but that is the way things are. First, I must find a way to get us there. We came across a party and Titus slaughtered them in the night. No doubt Nabis will offer a bounty for all of us. Even if his soon marries my sister, the wrong will not go unnoted. Sparta is too proud of a country with too rich a history to ignore such a grievance."

"And what hope do you have? The Romans have set their sights on everything. You seek a covert route when there is none?"

"Yes, I know that! Which is why I might _find _one!" Aziza exclaimed angrily, grabbing a map and throwing it violently. Godric watched, wanting to go to her and stroke her hair but chose not to in front of Baharah who would only chastise his actions as she chastised everything.

The room became eerily silent, the sound of nothing but flames leaping against wax to fill the air before Aziza suddenly spoke, her face changing in shadow. Glancing at the wall she suddenly stood and began to pace around the floor, muttering to herself loud enough for them to hear.

"We need a covert route. Or someone who knows a covert route. Someone trusted not to give us to the Romans or Nabis. Someone…" she trailed off then turned her lamplike eyes upon Baharah, extending her hands.

"Bṳkrush! He lives not far from here, enough time I could make it by morning if my memory serves correct. You know this Baharah?!" she suddenly called out and Baharah pursed her lips tightly as though angered by the sudden realization.

"There is no guarantee you will find him there. He wanders the night and day across the lands. There is no telling where he might be at any given time."

"No, but if there is but a small chance of finding him, I shall. Come Ti-Godric. Pack your things we must depart at once so we may find him before dawn."

"Find who? Who is this person?" Godric finally said though Aziza ignored him, quickly rolling up her maps.

"Leave the boy with me. He will be safe in my keeping." Baharah suddenly said and Aziza glanced at her sharply, Godric taking a step back.

"There is no point in killing him now is there? I certainly cannot bleed him. Besides, he could stand to learn a thing or two without your constant over concern for humans."

"You can understand if I am weary of your offer. Even I never feel safe in your keeping Baharah." And at this the Persian woman laughed, walking over to Aziza and grabbing one of her hands. Godric grinned in smug satisfaction as Aziza yanked her hand from Baharah's grip, silently claiming a victory for himself then watched his fair lady.

"I give you my word…I will not hurt or maim the boy who bring him any danger. Should tragedy befall him of his own making…well I have no control over that. But I myself will do him no harm."

Rolling his eyes Godric stopped as Aziza suddenly nodded, gathering her things. Making her way for the stairs Godric followed her outside curiously as she began to saddle her horse.

"So it is that simple? You leaving me here to perish with her?"

"She gave me her word. That may not mean much to any, but to Baharah…it is an immense promise. I know she will not hurt you, and should she, I will be here much faster than you could possibly imagine. For now, I must depart if I wish to make my way to my location before sunrise. Please avoid trouble." She responded quickly, then leaped onto her horse leaving Godric behind. Glancing down one last moment, she reached forth and extended her hand and Godric gave her his own, feeling her soft skin.

"I will return, and when I do….nothing in this world—including Baharah—will stop me from having you."

A smile crept over her face, eyes flickering dangerously and she grabbed the reigns, taking off into the night and leaving Godric behind with the promise of kisses the next morning.

* * *

Aziza pulled the reigns of the horse sharply, stopping as her mind swam painfully.

"_So what Mr. Writer? You'll write a decadent book about me? All my lavish affairs in the nightlife and my sinful ways?" she raised an eyebrow at the dark-haired Brit across from her. Raising his glass, he chuckled and took a sip and she lounged comfortably on the chaise, letting the cool air tickle her face._

"_Well if you'd let me. I find you far too fascinating not to write about. I can imagine it now. A character, based off of you. I could change the name of course. And she'd be British instead of American and meet an American writer. The opposite of you and I you see."_

"_I hardly think anyone will be fooled Christopher Darling. This is the one and only withstanding cabaret here in Germany. It won't take much to put the pieces together. Besides, I'd have to see if my boyfriend Eric would mind. He does tend to get a bit…jealous. Well, you already know that."_

"_Well maybe he should stop trying to claim you all for himself. A tiger isn't a lamb. He has no business trying to tame you."_

"_And what are you trying to do Christopher? If not tame me?" she grinned, placing her hands on his shoulders and the middle-aged man glanced up at her through admiring eyes. She could certainly see he was like others once upon a time in her life. In fact, he had the same look about him that Godric did when she first met him back all those years…_

"_I would never try and tame you darling. What about Sally? Sally Bowles. The perfect name for a perfectly pretty British girl. And Cliff. That'll be the name of my character. Sally and Cliff, two doomed lovers hanging on the last thread of the Weimer Republic."_

"_Doomed? For what fate?"_

"_I suppose time will tell. But for now…you look absolutely decadent."_

Her laughs trickled into the night and Aziza swayed dangerously atop her horse, trying to still her shaking as she finally sat up, head still pounding. The visions had gone from infrequent to plaguing, several a day and she knew it was of the utmost importance she get to Cairo and discover the source of her troubles immediately before they crippled her any further.

"I am sorry friend." She whispered to her horse then urged him to continue, breathing the night. Feeling her hair blow around her she tucked her long locks behind her ears and looked up at a half-moon which slowly descended further towards the horizon, threatening to bring the morning. She had about four hours left, and it was a stretch assuming the very person she searched for would be there.

Some called him a prophet. Others a fool. Witch doctor may have been the ultimate description, but the old man who lived along in the country was an enigma. He was much like the prophets in their temples, though Aziza knew him to worship no god for he thought himself to be a god. He was blessed with powers far beyond any mortal man, having lived for 300 hundred years. He could summon things, change the hair, and heal the sickest of the sick. Beyond anything, he was not man but some sort of sorcerer.

And a long live inevitably led to some greed. The old man who was once happy with a small hut in the fields now lived amongst piles of wealth, prostituting his services in exchange for currency which he dared not spend, but sat upon merely to stare at it. And while much had changed in him, still Aziza could not hold any less than the utmost respect for the revered and mythical man.

He was a legend among mortals. Those who dared venture to seek him out never did so, and any who returned were forever changed. For a mortal, of course. For those who also swam the bounds of supernatural, his charms were a mere show. All that lay was in locating him and offering him something he would take in exchange for his knowledge.

Looking at the stars for direction Aziza continued to ride through the night, her eyes settling upon the barely-noticeable hut surrounded by sheep long before any mortal would. Dismounting her horse she continued the rest of the way on foot so as not to subject the creature to any of the spells which decorated the perimeter. As the sounds of sheep reached her ears Aziza continued to walk, noticing a definite change in the air as she stepped past a small charcoal-colored rock.

The air around her almost hummed, like the bumbling essence of power. Looking at the rock, she bent forward and picked it up just as a voice entered her mind, alarming her.

"_And who have we here? A marriage of death and blood, speak sanguiness before I rip your heart out!"_

"_My name is Aziza, daughter of the great King Hadaj. I come seeking your counsel in a matter which requires supreme wisdom."_

The voice retreated, and suddenly, Aziza spun around to find a small man behind her. His face was buried beneath a white beard which fell down his chest and thick eyebrows which covered two electric-blue eyes. His wrinkled and knobby skin told of many years past and many to come as he searched her silently, the past of Greece etched across his face.

"Ah Aziza, daughter of King Hadaj. Long as it been since the two of us crossed paths, and here now you stand before me quite different I must say. Who would have thought us to come together once more." Bṳkrush spoke and Aziza bowed her head timidly.

Long indeed had it been since she had seen the old man, and in all his years he had not changed in the slightest. She was of seven years when he was called upon for the direction of battle. After ignoring her father's request, a group of brave men ventured across the kingdoms in search of him, and only one survived.

His prediction of battle was of course, truth, and he returned without a trace, never to be found again. In the kingdom of Somalia magic and logic came together for a show of majesty. Her father was a vain man, intent on creating an aura that pointed to him as a god-king, much like the old king Xerxes.

"And you have not changed. I come to you humbly in desperate need of aid and I pray you may assist me in my plight." She spoke kindly and Bṳkrush laughed, fingering his beard as his blue eyes twinkled knowingly. Gesturing for Aziza he began to walk towards the hut and she followed, watching as he walked with a slight limp not expected for a man of his age.

"And what need have you Princess? To bring someone back from the dead? Or do you wish to make some unknowing man love you? I see you are here in absence of your father or any soldiers? How does a princess escape into the night to come find an ancient old man?"

Aziza began her tale, causing Bṳkrush to stop in evident fascination.

"I only wish it were that simple. I was set to marry the son of Nabis and unify the region of Sparta with our kingdom. But in my last moments I could not. I escaped with an imprisoned boy who I have seen in my dreams and we have been fleeing from the soldiers ever sense. I thought if my sister took my place it would perhaps still Nabis' fury but it seems I have been mistaken. I must make way to Egypt and a safe place to call upon one who can repair diplomatic relations between the countries, and I am in need of a covert route of travel. We have been hunted across the plains, it is only a matter of time before one of Sparta's allies comes upon us."

"Much you have grown since your childhood. But tell me princess, where in your tale does your new self fit? I have come across many blood-drinkers in these days. In our years apart how did you come across such a mysterious force?"

"There was a girl…a woman. A Persian woman and I met with her beneath the moonlight with no fear of judgment or shame. I sought freedom and excitement and she offered both to me fully. And when we came together she bared herself to me as a monster then sired herself a partner without consent, taking my life away and giving it anew. I became her child and her lover, and she took me across the countryside in a show of death and torture while my father lamented my would-be death. It was only when I found redemption in the words of the God of Abraham that I came back to the world and sought to rebirth myself anew. I am no longer a killer out of fashion but necessity."

Bṳkrush snorted much to Aziza's dismay and shook his head.

"And there is your youth. You speak such wise words but fall so easily into the trap of supposed redemption and cleansing. Tell me of your God. What makes him different from all the others Aziza? I've heard of this God of Abraham who wears no face and judges men from his desires and misgivings. You should know better than anyone the role of these deities is to still the lesser minds."

Aziza shrunk away from his words, unwilling to accept his harsh words. It was no secret he likened himself to a god, but to denounce the religions and practices of so many was difficult for Aziza to grasp. Particularly when she thought she found a god truly repentant and forgiving of her sins of nature. She was a monster, and she liked to believe as long as she continued doing good she would be forgiven and enter the gates of Heaven.

"You are unwilling to look at the truth. You are immortal, so I can overlook such an error in judgment. You have many years to find the truth, for now, your plight. Come, inside my home. The sun will soon rise and I know you must seek shelter. First, let us discuss a price." He beckoned.

"I have no money with me, but you know I am able to pay. How much do you want for your services?"

"I do not want money. I have all the money in the world dear child. No, I deal now in…something a bit more rewarding. Tell me of this boy you speak of. The reason for all of your undoing. You would not simply flee with a slave who meant nothing. What is he to you?"

Aziza swallowed, suddenly uncomfortable at the thought of sharing such an intimate feeling.

"Well he…I saw him. He was nothing but a small prisoner on his way to death. But I have long seen visions of the future and in the past I saw him. It was him, I had no doubt of it. And I knew he had some role to play in my life so I asked him to come with me, and he agreed. We ran together and his foolish way plagued us. But a few nights ago he faced his death and I found myself unable to part with him so…"

"…So you yourself sired a bedfellow. How interesting. All based upon these…visions you claim to have. What could inspire such foolishness, to bring about a new enemy when you yourself are so young to the world?"

"I have seen so many great things for he and I. Living together amongst the years. It was impossible for me to ignore the opportunity."

"And what has lead you to believe the stars are written princess? The smallest change, the step on a blade of grass can alter the future past anything you have seen. Why give away so much when you know just as little as anyone else."

Aziza breathed in deeply, stopping as they stood in front of Bṳkrush's hut. Turning to him she swallowed, trying to do something with her body to control the fury that built up with her words. Why did he seek to question her at every turn?! What manner did he find necessary in condemning her actions when he could not understand what she felt and saw?!

"Visions I have had in the past have come true for the present. You said you would help me. That is all I have come for."

"No offense meant my dear. Please, join me inside." He opened the door then began to walk inside slowly. Following, Aziza ducked down into the modest-looking hut which was nothing full of splendorous glory like Bṳkrush supposedly surrounded himself with. Instead, the home was lived-in with pots and pans scattered across the floor, a small table littered with candlesticks and maps.

Striding across the room, he bent down and opened a small latch on the floor, pulling the door back. Without so much as a word the old man disappeared as his voice echoed from the open door so that Aziza bent down to find a ladder descending to an underground level.

"Come, join me." He spoke, and she did so, jumping straight to the bottom as she landed cat-like on her feet. Glancing around she let out an involuntary gasp, unsure of how else to react to the sight before her.

It was a room of pure majesty, an underground lair filled with gold and treasures. There were coins from all lands, jewels, shining and bright in the darkness. Chalices and grails, mythical busts and discarded statuettes. It was the very epitome of wealth and beauty, and Aziza bathed herself in the culture as she looked around, surrounded on all sides.

So the rumors were true. The payments Bṳkrush had collected from his various deeds went not to a lavish home or robes, but sat hidden beneath the cellar of his house quietly with no hint from what she saw above. Stepping past a pile of gold coins from Sparta he bent down and grabbed two bits of rolled parchment, bringing them over.

Opening the palm of his hand he produced a fire, further astonishing Aziza with his abilities before letting the parchment unravel, floating before them.

"This, is your safe route to Cairo. This pass is used by one of my many allies for illicit trade. It is not known by the Romans, and should you take it you will find cities along the way willing to help so long as they know our association. The journey extends without entering the sea as you move along the countryside to Egypt. From there, you must find Cairo on your own for I have no old there. Look at the map. Study it, learn it. Know it like the back of your hand for I shall not give it to you should it fall into the wrong hands."

Aziza nodded, pouring over the image quickly before closing her eyes. Blinking, she saw the image behind her lids then nodded as he let it roll up once more. Turning to her, he then clasped his fingers together, playing with his beard.

"Now, for my payment. I say…this boy of yours. This great love who has inspired such devotion and chaos."

"What?" Aziza turned sharply, snapping from her reverie.

"You will give him to me. Not today or tomorrow. But I shall call upon you at some time in your long future and I will require assistance from him. And no matter where you are, he will come to me. Willingly, as it is his duty to fulfill your debt."

"But…what could you want with me? Why not me instead?"

"Because he may yet possess something you do not. Do we have a deal Aziza?" Bṳkrush stated simply, and Aziza stared at him for a long moment then nodded her head, feeling her stomach seemingly sink at the thought of slaving the boy to the old man. Who knew what he would want with him, and he spoke of a future full of uncertainty, demanding no matter where or when Godric come to him. What if it were not possible?

For once, she agreed to leave those thoughts to the future. For now, there was the task of getting to Cairo without being caught by the Spartan allies. So with that Aziza bowed her head in acceptance, wondering if her deal would come back to haunt her.

* * *

Godric opened his eyes as the last bits of sunshine disappeared below the horizon. Sitting up he glanced over at the spot where Aziza had previously slept to find she had still not returned from her journey.

Deflating, he stood up then looked up at the ceiling as the floor creaked with the sounds of Baharah awakening. Suddenly, the was a rush of air and the Persian woman stood right in front of him, baring her fangs with eyes narrowed in fury. Her hair was plaited down her back and she wore a pair of loose bottoms instead of the long flowing gowns he often saw her in.

With hands arched, she hissed then took a swipe at Godric unexpectedly so that he jumped back, barely missing her claws and throwing himself against the wall. His fangs emerged instinctively and he fell into a crouch, cursing Aziza for being foolish enough to leave him alone with Baharah during her journey.

Much to his surprise, the dark-haired woman suddenly let out a screeching cackle and stood, fangs retracting as she smiled.

"Calm boy. You act as though you have never sparred before. It is the only way to further develop natural responses so if a nasty group of humans attacks you in your slumber you do not find your heart on a stick before you can respond.

"Spar…?" Godric repeatedly quietly as he continued to stare at her wearily, preparing for an attack at any moment. After it never came he finally eased up, still prepared though Baharah only turned her back and began to walk away before stopping at the doorway.

"Of course silly boy. Now, quickly dress yourself."

"For what?" he asked.

"We are going hunting."

* * *

"_Do you remember the first time we met? When I was imprisoned and you rescued me?"_

_She glanced at Godric carefully, eyeing him as he spoke. The other soldiers snored around them and she smiled, sauntering over to him then leaning against a beam cautiously as several clouds eclipsed the moon. _

"_You ask me that all the time. Of course I do, how could I not?"_

"_We've lived a long life, it could be easy to forget. Seeing as how you seem to change your name about every two years. Elizabeth is so plain, I liked Aziza. A lot more exotic."_

"_Well, Godric was certainly a change from the name Titus. It seems foolish to keep the same name for nearly 2,000 years, don't you think? What about women? Who's the lucky lady of your life now?"_

"_There is none. And you? You and Eric? Or Pam? You always seemed to like toying with both of them."_

"_I haven't seen Eric in quite some time now. Funny how we always end up back together. Makes you question the whole role of fate, destiny."_

"_I though you stopped believing in all that?"_

"_I did…at least I thought I did."_

* * *

Godric clutched the arm of the soldier boy beneath in. Even in his final moments he put up an impressive fight, twitching as the blood pulsed from his veins and into Godric's eager mouth. Sucking the red sustenance he gorged himself as he listened to the painful moans surrounding them as Baharah drained each and every one of the guardsmen in the bloodied hall.

He felt the man's flesh beneath his fingers, growing ever cold. He was of impressive height and size, cords pressing against his arms and bulbous muscles barging from his upper arms. He was a warrior in every sense, of immense strength but he was no match for Godric. His strength proved fruitless against his new body.

Titus would have been overwhelmed quite quickly, likely killed. But not Godric. Godric had the strength to overpower him with little to no effort and gloated over his kill as he let his belly fill with hot, sticky, blood.

It warmed him, copper gold flowing down his throat and into his belly. It filled him with such live that he felt he could run atop Olympus and challenge the Gods where they stood, taking a seat from himself as he cast them over the mountainside. He would take Aphrodite and seat her at the feet of his true queen, Aziza, letting her cast her mystic spells and beauty over all women fair who would fall at his feet and worship him.

Behind him, Baharah cackled wildly and he glanced up, wiping his mouth as the Persian woman ripped the arm from a corpse, digging into it with her teeth. Turning her head towards him she smiled, baring her wolfish-teeth and Godric returned the gesture with a nod, ever suspicious of her motives.

So far she had made no attempt to attack him, instead leading him to a nearby village under the notion of hunting. And thus far, she had kept her word. Together they stalked the nights and caught the guardsmen in the Great Hall as they feasted and drank, glutton spilling forth into the air and taking both predators under its spell in their own way.

She had kept her word not to hurt him, offering half the keep as they took everything they could with no mention of his dislike towards him but the occasional snide comment when he mentioned Aziza. Still, he refused to completely let up his guard. While it surprised him that the cautious Aziza could trust the woman so easily, he found himself unable to. Her deathly words from when they first met still taunted him and he knew should she try and take his immortal life, he had no chance stopping her.

Her hold over Aziza still perplexed him. The girl in all her intricacies, independent and bold yet she could not stand up to the women who so violently taunted and manipulated her. It bewildered him, along with her desperate hold on humanity. So easily she could have dispersed of their enemies, paving a way to Egypt with no problems yet still she refused as though she could not kill them all with a single blow.

Still, he had to admire Baharah. She was cruel just as Aziza had said, sadistic and evil. She exercised her power in the way Godric felt one of their kind should and assured him that Aziza was the exception and far across the lands more existed, far more violent and glorious than she could ever be.

"I can feel your eyes upon me. What are you thinking of? Your plighted lover or the outline of my body beneath this garb? I have always had a special talent of reading men, perhaps it has always been why I preferred women." Baharah spoke with her back turned and Godric snorted, shaking his head at the thought of being attracted to her.

Yes she was beautiful. She was also coarse, brutish, and unpleasant in her controlling behavior.

"What amuses you so?" she spun around, tossing the arm aside and licking blood from her fingers, eyes piercing Godric's.

"Your words. I have not looked twice upon your body. You continue to pine for what is mine I can see in your eyes that you will never let her go, no matter how much she protests. Is this why you lead me here? To goad me on then kill me and take Aziza hostage for yourself?"

Baharah hissed but made no move, eyes narrowing in anger.

"You are too bold, boy. I have a hold on her you will never break. I am not just her lover, I am her _maker_. I have pleased her in ways you can only wish of doing, and whenever she is beneath you know she is thinking of me."

"Then why did she sire me? If she is so devoted to you why are the two of us fleeing together? You may have controlled her before but you do no longer. You cannot force yourself upon lovers and expect their undying devotion."

"You think I force myself? I can have anyone I want Godric, be it man or woman. Aziza is indeed devoted to me in a way you will never understand. I make them bow before me, I make them shudder and crave my touch."

"What makes you think you are so desirable? I see nothing but a monster."

"Do not lie. I know the thoughts of men. You have gazed upon my form once upon a time. And what did you want to see? Me in nothing but my skin? What about now?" she raised an eyebrow and grinned, reaching over and unpinning one of the fastenings on her dress.

The fabric fell away then pooled at her feet, leaving her thin body beneath candlelight. She was nothing like Aziza in her curves and glory. Instead, Baharah had a hard body with small breasts about a handful each and pink nipples. Her stomach curved slightly to hips which had evidently never seen the widening of childbirth and slim thighs.

And still, to a boy who still succumbed to the feelings of reckless desire Godric could not tear himself away. He could not bear to bring his eyes away from her, thoughts of violent lust entering his head. She was not Aziza. She was nothing like her in fairness or beauty. But still as he looked at her, he could not deter the manly thoughts.

As though reading his thoughts Baharah grinned, speeding across the room as she pushed him back onto the wooden feasting table, climbing atop him. Tilting her head to the side so pondered for a moment as though curiously.

"It has been long since I have been with a man. Show me. Show me what I am missing. Show me what you will do to my darling Aziza." Baharah purred, teasing and Godric mustered all his strength as he rolled on top of her. Her eyes widened and she cackled her witch's roar, feeding his rage.

Placing a hand on her face he turned it sharply so he did not have to look at her then bent down furiously and whispered in her ear.

"I will never have you like I will have her. You do not have her beauty or her wits. You are nothing next to her." He growled, then freed himself from his bottoms and furiously rammed himself into Baharah without warning, his frustration suddenly building in all of his close encounters with Aziza.

His hatred fueled him and he pushed in and out of her violently, wanting to cause her as much pain as possible. And with each sharp thrust Baharah cried out like Godric had never heard her before, growing wet with his ministrations as he silently promised himself he would never want her again.


End file.
